


Sleeping Sun

by endlesseternities



Series: Angels Fall First [1]
Category: Aladdin (1992), Original Work
Genre: Age Difference, Anointing Oils, Arguments, Betrayal, Blood Magic, Comfort, Confessions, Crystals, Cutting, Cynicism, Djinni, Emotional Bonds, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Exotic Animals, F/M, Fire Gazing, Forbidden Love, Healing, Heartache, Heavy Angst, Hypnotism, Ifrit (Mentioned), Illusions, Implied Sexual Content, Islamic Lore - Freeform, Kisses, Loss of Virginity, Midnight Rides, Mysticism, Narcissism, Older Man/Younger Woman, Pain, Permanent Exile, Physical Abuse, Pleading, Prophecies, Psychic Bond, Romance, Self-Sacrifice, Slavery, Solitary Confinement, Soul Binding, Spells & Enchantments, Stargazing, Telepathy, Traditional Astrology, True Love, incense, love tokens, sorcery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-08 14:33:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 26,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11083575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endlesseternities/pseuds/endlesseternities
Summary: This is the first part of the story of Jasmine's cousin and that tall, dark and "handsome" royal vizier.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For background music to listen to, I highly recommend the song "Sleeping Sun" by Nightwish; its lyrics are so poetic that it became the main title of this work.
> 
> I do not own the characters from the film; I only own Jahanara, her father and the storyline. Her would-be live action face claim is Deepika Padukone. The live-action face claim for Jafar is none other than the handsome and suave Oded Fehr, who already played my sun and stars on "Once Upon a Time."

In her chambers, the Princess lies on her side upon a lounging sofa; it is draped in fine red velvet sashes, accompanied with the softest of embroidered pillows. She rests her head for a moment, but then realizes she is too restless, especially now that she has buried her older brother. Upon that realization, she discovers that she is to be a queen.

But as the Princess reclines onto her back, her faithful and elderly servant, Niama, enters with a tray of wine and fruit. She must eat, the old woman will instruct; eat or be withered. Jahanara knows that she would rather starve than eat. She has no appetite that can be sated, no thirst that can be quenched. All she knows, at the moment, is misery.

"Come now, child," Niama says. "You must eat and drink something. You can't become the Queen of Nestarizan if you are unhealthy."

Jahanara turns onto her side, away from Niama's fading sight. "I do not wish to be queen. I have no experience as a princess even! For all that I am, my craft is my worth. I do not wish to leave this palace ever again; let my cousin be the queen if need be."

Niama scolds her with a grandmother's tone. "You know she cannot be the queen. She is your cousin, bound to rule her father's kingdom while you are bound to rule this one. Besides, she's too young to take on such a role."

Tears stray from the Princess' eyes. She looks out the massive window, past the balcony and its curtains, only to see the heights of the stone buildings in which the peasants live. She pities them, and how she thinks of how precious life is. She feels her tears fall down her slender tan face, and they fall, only to cause ripples in the small pool in front of her. 

Jahanara sits up then and drops the sashes from her sofa. She runs alongside the pool barefoot to the balcony and grips it tenderly, as if it is a child. She looks below and sees the people running, sees their children skipping about in the filth that is the city. It breaks her heart to see them so innocent and in poverty. Niama lowers the tray to a table and follows.

"Princess, you cannot take in all the blames for humanity. Allah will guide you, them and whoever follows his light. I trust that you know that. Now, come."

The old woman takes the Princess' hand, and guides her back to the sofa. Gingerly, the Princess eats the fruit and sips the wine, only to fall asleep minutes later from exhaustion and her depression.

\--

As Jahanara lies on her sofa, she thrashes in her sleep. She is fearful of what she dreams. 

In her sleep, she pictures a man, tall and crooked-looking, draped from head to toe in the finest reds, blacks and how he carries a snake of gold. She is afraid of how he appears in the dream, and though she is terrified, she knows she must act upon her urges to follow him down a winding staircase. 

Her feet, in the dream, are surrounded by red smoke and are invisible; he clutches her hand and he leads her downward. She follows without a single sound. And whilst she breathes in the real world, her chest does not heave with panic. Instead, the sound of her heartbeat enters her ears. But in the dream, she sees the very Sands of Time.

She gasps in both dream and reality. She cannot believe what she sees, and from then on, she knows this man guiding her is not a commoner or a prince. No, he is something far more dangerous, someone with a past unseen, forgotten and prepared to be exposed in its true light. The man's sharp smile become exposed as he takes her closer to the glass.

With one hand, he puts hers on the surface of the glass; and there, the two experience a vision so vivid, a vision so beautiful and horrifying that she cannot awaken to explain. In a mere second, she wakes, just as the man beside her, holding her hand, shifts into an awfully large serpent. She screams and in the mere wake, her servant Niama holds her.

"I saw him," Jahanara says. "I saw him, Niama, but I still do not know his name."

The old woman nods. "Tell me of your dream this time, Princess."

\--

For an hour, the Princess explains her dream to the old woman. She tells of how she sees the Sands of Time, the hollow underbelly of a decrepit dungeon; Niama studies the young royal and senses she is telling the truth. However, she grips the Princess' hand and she questions her once.

"And how does he make you feel in your dreams, Janni?"

How can she answer without lying to Niama, without lying to herself?

She cannot, and knows that she must speak the truth. While curling her black hair in her fingers, the Princess lies back and closes her eyes. She licks her lips once and then tells her servant what she knows.

"I feel.. safe. I feel safe, though I do not know him. When I walk with him, I know that he will not harm me. He is cautious, Niama. He never once thinks to deviate from what he is. But is it truly strange, that even though he casts such a grim appearance, that I feel safe with him in my dreams?"

The old woman does not know, for she is not like the Princess; she has no special powers, no beyond-the-world abilities. She shrugs her shoulders and shakes her head.

"I do not know, Princess. Perhaps it is an omen. Whether it is good or bad, that is for you to see in your hourglass, or your fires."

Jahanara stands up in a sudden and begins to shift her dress off. It falls around her ankles and to further herself away from Niama, she throws herself into the deep pool. The waters consume her and she is engulfed by its warmth. Ripples consume her and in an instant, she forgets who she is, what she is--- nothing surmounts her and she is at peace for just a little while.

\--

After she leaves her pool, the Princess walks naked to her hourglass, one that is almost similar to the man's in her dreams. In the strong current of the evening breeze, she is chilled now. Her fine tan skin is shivery, but that does not stop her from looking into the glass. 

"Sands of Reverie," she whispers. "I long to see my future. Tell me, all-powerful sands, will I become queen or shall I remain as I am--- a sorceress, a scarlet practitioner of magic?"

When she fetches her robes, she throws them on and watches intently at the churning of the sands. They scrape and sweep against the glass, and pour down into the lower half. A vision forms. It is her, dressed in her finest of reds, but this time, she is in the arms of the stranger she dreams of. Except, he is adorned in robes fit for a sultan, then a sorcerer. 

She gasps at what she sees next.

He is caressing her in his arms, but somehow, his snake-like staff has its glowing eyes fixed upon hers. She, in the vision, is suddenly consumed by darkness as the stranger lowers his lips to her throat, like a demon, an ifrit. Janni steps back and cups her neck.

After that, the sands fall silent and the vision ends.

She exclaims fearfully, "No! Please, show me more!"

Like a frightened child, she approaches and clasps her hands together, her brows now furrowed together. But the Sands of Reverie do not answer to a mere mortal woman. No, now their grains rest content in the glass, at least for now. Jahanara exhales with a shudder or two to her breath. Underneath her robes, her whole body tenses in anxiety.

It is hurting her. It is hurting her to see that stranger over and over again, without so much as a single clear glimpse of his face or the ability to learn his name. Everything about it gives her the ultimate horror, but deep down, she yearns to know who he is.


	2. Chapter 2

The smell of incense roams through her chambers, sweeter than life itself. It is of a haze she adores, a faint smell of blood-roses and dragon's blood combined. Jahanara lies on her bed, half-asleep, as she becomes lost in thought over what the Sands of Reverie had shown her just hours before.

She is content, calm and relaxed; nothing else exists but the sound of her silence. But as she dreams, she discovers that there is more to it than what the eye can see. 

For now, she ventures into that same dungeon-like setting all alone. It is only she, save for a few rats that sweep her feet. She is not afraid, but entranced. And in her dream, she carries a candle that glows with a passionate flame; its light flicks against the molded brick walls, and only her shadows, along with a complete darkness, follow.

\--

She breathes softly as if she is walking through a crypt. She does not wish to disturb anyone or anything, and how she walks like a trembling child. Her hand reaches out as she descends the winding staircase. Her fingers motion in the faint, damp air, and there is nothing in her path. It is so dark, that as she continues downward, she sees her shape upon the wall as nothing but a silhouette.

But then she hears a voice, a voice deep, dark and beautifully sinister. "Oh, Princess..."

"Who are you?" 

It is a faintly cliche question, but it is one she must ask. It is the dark she speaks to, but at the end of the staircase, she finally sees him, the disembodied voice. He stands as tall as a lithe tree, his person adorned in robes of red and black; his shoulder caps are pointed and his cape pools around his ankles, hiding his feet from plain sight.

Through the candlelight, she can finally see his face. It is slender, shapely and long, and he has a thin mustache and goatee, one that is ultimately twisted and raven black. His eyes, outlined with kohl, are a burning auburn-brown that sit firmly beneath such villainous eyebrows. 

His turban is tall, black with red curved lines that protrude from either side of the ruby that sits between them, just above his forehead. His appearance is more than what she prepared herself to see. And as she stammers backward on the staircase, she sees that he is indeed holding a long, slender staff that is fashioned in the liking of a cobra. 

"Come now, Princess--- is that any way to greet someone? Surely your parents taught you better courtesies than that!"

She gathers her courage. "Are you a djinn?"

And how he cackles at her! It is an uneasing laugh, one that is devoid completely of feeling, of humor. It frightens Jahanara and so, she steps back again and grips the wall.

"No, my child, I am not; but I must say, you, dear princess, have such an interesting way of putting things," he replies.

At the mere mentioning of a childlike stance, she becomes angry. "I am not a fool, you know. It was only a mere question and you will answer to the Princess of Nestarizan, as she sees fit to command. Now answer me this, snake: Who are you to scare a young girl who is already more terrified than need be?"

Now he approaches her. He takes her free hand and kisses it, his thin lips deeply touching the top of it; his lips feel so calloused, but she is not sure of how to feel. Her brows furrow again, and she stares at him with curious eyes.

"My most humble apologies, Princess..."

\--

When she awakes, Niama is standing beside her yet again.

"You've been dreaming when you shouldn't be, little lamb," she says.

Niama hands her a cup of wine and the Princess takes it. She puts her lips to the rim and takes a drink. The taste of the wine is bitter, and she coughs. Niama takes the cup away and dabs the drops off of Janni's lips.

"Easy, child!"

"If only you'd seen what I did, Niama, you'd wish to drink yourself to sleep too."

The old woman's grey brows come together. "Was he that bad this time?"

The Princess shakes her head. She does not know how to explain it, but she knows she must try. She stands and gathers her crystals from the side table, and with the anointing oil she made herself, she lathers them all. She puts them then on the rocks where the flames crackle. The flames absorb the oil and the pleasant scent of roses and lavender burn in the air.

Niama stands back and half-covers her face. She does not care for the rituals that the Princess performs, and knows that by their faith that practicing magic is forbidden. But, the old woman watches. 

"Sweet fire, tell me what his intentions are," Jahanara says. "Please, I will this in your name."

"Oh, please--- Princess, do not dabble further in such craft! You will be damned if you continue; Allah will not allow such otherworldly forces to surmount his presence!"

Janni does not pay attention to her servant. Instead, she listens to what the fires tell her.

"Princess!" Niama cries out. "I truly must object!"

Looking over her shoulder, Janni stares into Niama's eyes with her own. She is crying now, tears of undeniable passion, of fear and love. The tears are clean and true; the Princess cannot deny them. 

"Niama, I am so confused. I don't know what to do."

\--

She is gliding. She is gliding in the water again and is naked, powerless like a newborn. Her black hair waves over her shoulders and she stares out the window, her eyes glued to the moon and all its beauties. 

She had sent Niama off to bed and thus enjoyed some privacy. It was a burden sometimes, to have a servant who didn't understand. Her craft was her life. For the longest time, Janni had no idea or intention of being a princess. However, she was born one. She hadn't the chance to be herself at birth.

Fate, she thinks, is a cruel master. She knows that she is a mere human in a crumbling world but she is a goddess nonetheless; most people have never seen her, but they know of her name. She is known towards Egypt, towards the Sudan and the plains of greater India. There is not a person alive who does not know who she is. 

After all, she is the Princess of Nestarizan--- she, a beauty at that, is utterly mysterious and unseen like an ifrit loving its first hunt. Her spirit was both pleasant and unpleasant, a mixture of light and dark; though truly, she acted solely on her lighter side. She had no intentions of harming others.

But as the moon hides in the clouds, her chambers become shadowy with blackness. Janni sinks into the waters and silently, thinks of what her future holds for her.


	3. Chapter 3

"I haven't seen Father since Anwar died."

This time, another woman entered, one half Niama's age. She was perhaps in her fourties, covered with henna upon her hands and feet; truly, she looked respectable and full of wisdom, though Janni did not know her that well. She keeps her guard up high.

"But Princess, I am sure your father will like to see you. After all, you are the only child left of his that is still alive," the woman said. "The rest of your siblings are gone, yes?"

She shuddered at the thought and memories of her family. She hadn't been with them in so long, and she hadn't the urge to bring herself closer. She was, after all, a sorceress. Her craft-practicing was punishable by death; she would be beheaded for her lifestyle.

"Yes, they're gone. Anwar was the firstborn, but he was the last of them to die," the Princess sniffled. "My sisters, Zoraida and Thamina, they were the first to go. Amran went after them in an accident, and now Anwar's gone, killed by his idiot rival. Of course, I am the last of the Sultan's children and unfortunately, I am the only one he will leave the throne of Nestarizan to."

The sound of their names leaving her lips give her fresh tears. She does not like to speak of her family. It gives her too much pain, too much anguish--- she wishes that she could have died and that they could have lived. She has no intentions of being queen, but she knows that it will perhaps be a fate she must learn to suffer through.

The woman says, "Princess, I think it would do you good to see your father; he must miss you fiercely."

The Princess stares at the woman through watery eyes; she does not wish to hear her words, but knows she speaks the truth. It is only mid-day yet, and she knows that the sooner she sees her father, the quicker it will be. 

\--

Jahanara walks towards a corridor that holds the most secluded of lights.

Her hand grabs a torch, and with ease, she inhales, exhales and then begins the descent into the long, winding pathway. She reaches a hand out and glides it along the side of the corridor, as it sinks deeper into a cave-like terrain. 

She is unafraid. She knows these tunnels, as she helped to plan them; it is a part of her home, a part of her lonely world. Only her father knows of the tunnels. It is secret, even from her mother, their servants. Not even her cousin knows of their existance.

For a good mile, she walks underground until she comes across the entrance to the palace. It is a flight reaching upward, to a large mahogany door that has ancient spells carved on the side facing her. She knows those spells. She can feel them embedded in her bones. They are protection spells, for her family, their people and the kingdom. 

All who would walk through those doors would forever be protected. Still, for some reason, the Princess believes that she will not need protecting, but rather those whom she loves.

When she enters the palace, she dons her red veil and embraces herself with its shift. It hangs over her face rather gently, and she appears ghostly. Her lehenga clasps to her body tenderly, protectively, as if it is a second skin; her jewels of rubies and diamonds glitter in the faint candlelight. Janni puts her hands together and slowly, walks toward the throne room where her father should be seated.

\--

Two guards see she is coming. They are unaware of who she is, and so, they question her without thought. One keeps his hand on his sword, the other keeps his eyes at hers.

"You are not welcome here, woman," one says. "Tell us who you are or else the Sultan will hear of this."

She stills and does not move; her face is calm and her eyes cautious, though as she peers through the veil she wears, she is not concerned.

"I am here to see the Sultan as a matter of fact," she says. "Tell him that I am here."

The main guard is not convinced. He thinks she's being false. Instead, he unsheathes his sword and points it at her jugular. Its tip softly touches the flimsy fabric, white silver shining brutally against red. "You are in no place to give us orders, woman."

Janni unclasps her hands and pulls her veil over her head, so that it may sit firm upon her scalp. Her brown eyes stare at each guard, and with a ferocity untamed, she bats her eyes slowly and remains especially calm. "Tell the Sultan I am here or else I will have your names given to him."

The largest guard goes to grab her, but is stopped by the sound of a feminine voice.

"Do not touch her! If she wishes to see the Sultan, then let her. You do her any harm, I will personally take you before my uncle. Is that understood?"

Jahanara looks past the massive width of the guards' arms. It is a younger version of herself, a beautiful little lady who walks over to her. She is almost the same as she is in appearance; this princess, however, is fuller in the face and is adorned in blue clothes. 

The little princess approaches her and takes her hand. "Come with me, I will take you before the Sultan."

She takes the girl's hand, and before they enter, Janni lowers her veil once more, to conceal the fact that she is indeed that scarlet sorceress they know of. 

\--

The princesses walk into the massive throne room together. Themes of arabesque surround them in rich colors of blue and gold, and the ceiling peaks over thirty feet high. It is wide in space, empty, and in the back of the room, the throne of Nestarizan sits firm with its ruler atop it.

He is an old man, one who has seen much hardship over the years. His tan skin is old, wrinkled; his brows sag over his baggy eyes, and he hunches over, his hands always gripping the handles of his magnificent throne. The two approach and kneel. The Sultan opens his eyes half way and peers through shifting eyes. His breathing is labored, but still every bit as strong.

"Uncle," the younger princess says, "I have brought someone here to see you."

With a creak to his figure, he stands up from his throne and approaches them in return. He eyes the girls with what eyes he has left, for his vision is fading somewhat. The reds combine with the sight of blues, and he has a hard time distinguishing which one is the true princess. The one in blue steps aside and leaves Janni kneeling alone. Janni keeps her head lowered, and with the veil over her face, the Sultan leans down and removes it.

His fingers feel the soft fabric slide away. It pools in front of them both, and Jahanara's face is revealed. The Sultan slits his eyes to gain a further, clearer sight of her, and when he sees who it is, he falls to his knees, with tears beading his old brown irises.

"Oh, praise Allah! Janni, you've come home!"


	4. Chapter 4

The young woman is overcome with emotion. It has been at least five years since she stepped foot in the palace of her father, and with that, her eyes tear with fountain-like rivers. She embraces the Sultan in return and kisses his forehead.

"Yes, Father," Jahanara says. "I have come back, but only for a short time; I'm afraid I cannot stay for very long."

He pulls back to look her in the face. He cups her slender cheeks with both hands and kisses her forehead as well; he does not care about any others. Only his daughter matters. She is home, she is home and that is worthy for a celebration. 

"Come now, daughter. You must stay," the Sultan says. "It's been so long since I last saw your face."

But then they remember that the other princess is there, too. She, the little flower, gazes in silent awe. Her little tan hands are clasped together at her throat, her fingers almost laced. She stumbles back and is frightfully amazed at who is before her.

In shock, she mumbles to herself. "Are you... Are you truly my relation?"

The Sultan rises and reaches for her hand. "Come; I do not believe you remember your cousin. Jasmine, this is Jahanara--- my last living child and eldest daughter. She used to watch over you when you were smaller still!"

Jasmine's black brows rise high above her eyes; the auburn-brown of her irises clash beautifully with the light of the candles. In surprise, she tears her hand out of her uncle's palm and throws herself onto Janni. The little princess wraps her arms around the other's waist with tender, loving care. Likewise, Jahanara wraps hers around Jasmine.

Jasmine exclaims happily as she smiles. "My cousin! How we've missed you!"

\--

The three sit down to feast in the throne room just hours later. Still amazed, Jasmine finds that she cannot take her eyes off of her cousin's red-adorned figurine. They sup upon the finest fruit freshly plucked from their venues, they drink the finest wines and eat the sweetest, most delicate meats.

Each drink and eat their fill until they can no longer support themselves. They recline upon the gold-embroidered body pillows and rest. Janni lies on her side, while Jasmine, bravely, lies upon her stomach. 

For hours, she speaks with Janni over the weather, their kingdoms, their lives; however, Janni is very careful as to what she says. She doesn't dare to speak of her life in her own palace, of how she practices such crafts that are deemed immoral in Allah's eyes.

She does not want to risk Jasmine and compromise her safety.

Though he did not wish to interrupt, the Sultan spoke a small piece. "Jasmine, don't you have someone to feed?"

She opens her eyes widely and sits up. "Oh, I almost forgot about him! I'll be right back!"

She stands up fast and with her bare feet, treks herself across the massive space of the floor towards the hall entrance. Her long black hair wisps around the corner and then, she is gone. The sound of her giggling echoes off the walls.

Then she hears it--- she hears cooing, as well as a little growling, of something little. It is not yet grown from what she hears, and when Jasmine enters the throne room again, her arms are full of something colored orange and black, with accents of white. It is a small bengal cub that she holds. Jasmine laughs as the little one gnaws on its meat.

Jasmine sits directly next to her cousin. The cub drops his meat, but Janni is quick to catch it for him; she gives it sparingly to the cub, who devours it endlessly with a small twist on his face. His paws bat at it and he chews messily, with little droplets of blood falling from the inner folds of the meat. The Princess of Nestarizan is unable to resist giving the cub a rub of his head.

"Janni, this is my little friend. His name is Rajah."

The Princess quirks a brow. "A suitable friend for a suitable flower."

\--

"Sleep by me, Janni!"

How restless she is. Jasmine brings Rajah into the fold of her bed, sets him down and watches him curl into her blue pants, yawning with his new, toothy grin. The little princess pats the open space beside her, and Jahanara knows she cannot refuse her.

Taking her veil off, she lights a few candles.

Jasmine watches how her older cousin glides like an ifrit through the darkness, the faint moonlight only catches the gleam of the jewels she wears. She is mesmerized by the flow, the grace of her cousin. The smoke rises then from the wicks of the candles, and the wind blows through the curtains of the rooms. Jasmine shivers with fear and cuddles with Rajah, afraid of what lies in the dark.

Janni takes notice of this and sits beside her. "Jasmine, what is wrong?"

She speaks muffled behind Rajah's head. "I am scared of the man in the dark, Janni."

Instinctively, Jahanara pats Jasmine's head, brushing the black hair out of her face. She is now concerned, her heart now gradually beating with palpitations. Though she has only been reunited with her, she has the instinct--- of a motherly nature--- to protect her. 

"Jasmine, tell me about this man. Why does he scare you?"

Silence--- it fills the room indefinitely. She is so scared, the younger princess is; she is frightened, her eyes wide, her small, forming breasts heaving. The cub has no idea of how she feels, but knows that she is distressed. Tears fill Jasmine's eyes. She is beyond a doubt mortified of that "man."

"Jasmine," Jahanara softly says. "Does this man carry a golden staff, shaped like a snake?"

Rajah whines at the little tug he receives from Jasmine. In a terrified outburst, she blurts, "A cobra, Janni! He carries a cobra-shaped staff..."

Oh Allah, no!

Janni grips her amulet from round her throat and kisses it, her eyes closed, her lips upon its cool stone. It is true. The man she has been seeing in her dreams is real. He is a monster, a cunning spirit--- one who would dare to toy with the dreams of a little girl. 

She whispers into the stone for a welcomed reprieve in Jasmine's name. She does know what to do for the girl, except that she must confront the man in her dreams. 

The Scarlet Sorceress cracks her eyes open and lovingly holds onto both child and cub. "Jasmine, I want you to be truthful with me."

"Yes?"

"Where does this man reside?"

The girl is hesitant at first, but then brave enough to answer. "He is my father's royal vizier. His name is Jafar, and he lives in the small chambers in the palace of Agrabah."


	5. Chapter 5

For the better part of the whole night, she watches Jasmine sleep alongside the bengal cub. Both are sleeping soundly, content with themselves. Jasmine's adolescent chest rises up, down and ever calmly; the tiger matches her breathing and both are at peace.

Janni looks down on her cousin and brushes her long, black hair softly. 

It is strange, she thinks, that she should be a mother-like figure to her own cousin. After all, her aunt, now lies in a locked crypt; the guards of Agrabah forever watch over her due to Sultan Hamad's command. She remembers how her aunt used to be. It seems as if it were last year when Jasmine was only still an infant, and of how she was little.

But times pass, she thinks. It is time for all childhood dreams to fade and for the bitter realities to come and take over. But when she thinks of realities, she remembers how her cousin is terrified of this royal vizier. She boils with rage and her knuckles flash white, turning a little red as she balls her hands into fists. 

She stands and walks toward the balcony, where she greets the evening air with her now-flowing tears of disgust. It sweeps through her hair and against her body carefully.

She is flustered. She cannot speak. Her throat is dried and her eyes feel heavy, so heavy that she can no longer weep. With a single turn, she looks back into the dark rooms where Jasmine lies asleep with her little cub. 

"I promise, Jasmine--- I won't let him harm you," she strains.

\--

The next morning, Jahanara learns that Jasmine is to return to Agrabah.

She is hesitant but the youngest princess demands that she accompanies her. Despite all thoughts of wishing to return to her own palace, Janni knows she must go with. 

Jasmine clasps onto her and holds her near, smiling, giggling. In an excited tone, she begs. "Will your father allow you to come with me? Say you will! You can come, see your uncle and spoil me with your stories!"

The Sultan Zaman looks at his daughter with pride. As of now, he knows she is a woman grown, in age. However, he knows that she must do her duties to their family as well. It is a difficult decision for him to regard, this he believes. And so, he claps his hands onto Jahanara's hands and brings her forward.

"Daughter, you do me great honor. I have never been more happy to be your father, your sultan, but now I must ask you to do something for me. I must ask that you find a suitable husband."

Both princesses drop their mouths open. While Jasmine remains speechless, Janni looks at her father and cannot move. Her heart feels as if it drops to a cavern deep and cold. Her flesh, even in the warmest heat, turns shrill with raw chills. She releases his hands and steps back.

"Father..."

He stumbles to reassure her, but the sorceress will not have it. He needn't say anything. She knows that it is her duty, her birthright to carry on the traditions and legacy of Nestarizan. "Janni, I know--- it is a lot to ask, but you are my only heir, and this kingdom needs two rulers, not one. Please, daughter; don't take offense when I only wish the best for you."

Now she turns to tears. It feels as if Allah has shunned her, has forsaken her and all her love. She clutches her arms and shudders. "I will not marry, Father. I haven't the strength to love anyone else."

Now the Sultan drops his hands to his side. He is desperate, contrite. He cannot stand to bring himself to ask her, but he knows he must enforce the law.

"Jahanara, you must marry. It is a wedding that is long overdue."

Choking back tears, the Princess replies with distinction. "I will not, not even under pain of death."

She runs out of the throne room and down the halls, her tears flowing, her veil thrown from her head into the breeze that carries itself down the marble corridor. Jasmine follows and little Rajah struggles to catch up with them; the tiger can only run so fast, so Jasmine halts and picks him up.

"Janni, wait!"

Rajah yelps as Jasmine accidentally falls over her curled shoes. She trembles on the floor with the cub, who has only caught himself on his feet. Jahanara runs around the corner and into the approaching dark of night. She leaves with her red clothes fading out of sight, out of mind.

Young Jasmine is helpless to stop her, and so, is left alone with Rajah as she wonders where her beloved older cousin runs off to.

\--

The princess returns to the corridor from whence she entered. Her gown flows behind her in the wisps of the faint current of air, and she runs down the stairs in the hollow dark. Only the lanterns light her way, her eyes following their every flickering flame.

She is in tears still and cannot believe what she has been commanded to do. 

"I won't marry," she cries out. "I won't!"

She knows in her heart, she is married to her spells, her potions and love of astrology. It is by the stars she is here, by their good graces that she cannot force herself to become a statistic. As she turns the corner, she finds that there is a new corridor. 

She stops running and waits there, in the faint light, with her eyes flowing wet with tears and wonders how it came to be there. Vaguely, Jahanara does not remember this passage. It seems so foreign to her, and deep down, she feels the urge to venture down into its long darkness. There is but a strange red light at the end of its tunnel, and she feels, with all her heart, that there is something she must see.

\--

It is not a long venture into the tunnel. It is perhaps only a few minutes' walk, and her feet carry her towards an ascending staircase. It coils upward like a snake, and she wonders if she dares to follow. But deep down, the Princess knows that she has already made the decision to see where it leads.

"I must not be afraid," she tells herself. "I promised Jasmine that I would find this man."

Her hands grip tightly, firmly. She is nervous, perhaps even anxious but she feels calm. It is strange, that her peace should be insurmountable. Her brown eyes are fixed upon the red glow, and so, she begins to climb the stairs and up, up, up she goes. She reaches a heavy-set wooden door, and with a trembling hand, she touches the sliding latch and opens it. 

It is so heavy, the door is, and so she must use all her strength to push it open. By doing so, she falls into the room. She is caught by a cobblestone floor, and discovers that it matches the same floor she sees in her dreams whenever she glimpses the future. 

She knows it to be true--- the room exists!

And when she stands up, brushing herself off from the floor's dust, something flies over her head. It is pudgy, red and with a large beak. It caws at her, squawking with a strange kind of voice.

"You got some kinda problem that you don't know how to stay outta other people's dungeons? Sheesh, perhaps we should've put up a 'do not disturb' sign!"

As Janni looks up to see where the voice comes from, she sees that a red parrot, whose wings are tipped with blue, sits firm and annoyed on his perch. She is confused if only for a second, then she sees its large yellow beak moving, speaking as if it's human. 

"You got a staring problem too? Yeah, I talk! It ain't nothing new if you know what's up."

Jahanara's eyes go wide. "A talking parrot! How marvelously curious. Might I ask your name, little bird?"

The parrot groans and plops down on a stone beside her. "Name's Iago. And who are you?"

Tenderly, the Princess takes the small bird into her hands and smiles at him. "I am Jahanara, but you may call me Janni if you like. Everyone does."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little bit of animal cruelty in this, but nothing too serious. Please let me know what you think of this so far!

"Little bird..."

"Iago, lady!"

She puts him back down on his post and sighs. "Iago," she says, apologizing, "I am sorry, but could you tell me where I am?"

He's feverish with mistrust. He furrows his black brows at her and cocks his head up, twisting it to the side. "Why you wanna know?"

She sits beside him on the staircase that leads upward to a flat platform, where she sees that a table sits, along with strange little bottles, with peculiar brews smoking, foaming.

Unable to counteract her curiosity, she seems to forget that Iago is there with her. She stands up and races like a curious little child up the flight, where she stands at the table. And what little oddities sit upon the fabric that covers the circular top!

But Iago's relentless, bound to keep the place a secret no matter what. He flies up beside her and lands on the table, spreading his wings out in front of the potions. 

"Lady, you ain't go no business being in other people's stuff!"

Janni is again apologetic. "I am sorry, Iago, it's just that I haven't seen these things before, but yet, I feel as if I have. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

He shakes his head and sputters. "Nah, and I don't wanna understand. I just want you to keep your shapely nose outta my master's things; he doesn't like it when people sneak around and spy on him."

Now her eyes flash with surprise. "Your master?"

Iago covers his beak with his wings, gasping. "Shouldn't have said that, I should not have said that!"

"Iago, who is your master?"

But she is unable to get anything else out of him. She leans forward in a non-threatening manner, but then she is frightened when someone grabs her. 

"Who are you to invade my dungeons? Tell me, girl, else I'll have you escorted to the Sultan!"

She turns and sees who has her by the arm. Janni is undoubtedly afraid if only for a second, but then, she sees him. It's him--- the man she's been dreaming of, the one who has invaded her mind late at night. Now, she sees his face ever clearly.

Her mouth drops open and her heart leaps in her chest; she does not know whether or not to be unsure about him, but she still feels calm, though the grip of his hand on her arm tightens.

"Jafar, are you not? I've seen you before," she exclaims.

Now his brows arch and he releases her. He clutches onto his golden, cobra-shaped staff and does not know what to think. He steps back and in his slender form, looms over her and watches her intently.

Iago pipes up and flies to his shoulder. "Look, I told her to back outta here, Jafar, but the little woman here wouldn't listen!"

"Quiet, Iago! I want her to explain herself," he reforms. "Now, who are you? Tell me and speak truthfully, otherwise I'll know you're lying."

But she knows that they've met. He has to know, for he has entered her dreams. She pulls her hair over her shoulder and looks up at him, her big brown eyes softened.

"Jafar, you know who I am."

"And how exactly am I supposed to know?"

Jahanara laughs softly and looks down at her feet, then back at him. Both Iago and Jafar look at each other and for a moment, pause to reflect on whether or not she is realistic.

"Because," she says, standing in front of him closer, "I believe we've met in my dreams."

\--

Jafar turns around with his back facing her, and Iago whispers lowly to him. 

"Jafar, I think she's cracked. Why is this chick saying she knows you? Is she the one that prophecy of yours mentions?"

But he bats his hand at Iago's face. It cracks him hard and the parrot falls down his cape, making an 'oof' sound. Janni is appalled by the sudden violence towards the little bird, and so, she rushes to pick up Iago. She holds him close and looks his beak over, same for his wings. 

Outraged, she scolds Jafar with a stern voice. "How cruel of you! What has he done to you to deserve such treatment?"

Jafar snaps at her as he turns. "What that bird tells me is none of your concern! Now, return him to that post and tell me who you are!"

But she still holds Iago. She won't put the little bird down for any reason, and she keeps him safe, her hands clasping onto him carefully. Jahanara knows she will not be intimidated by anyone or anything, and so, she tells him who she truly is.

"I am the Princess Jahanara of Nestarizan, and you will speak to me, Jafar, with more respect. Now, do as I say and tell me why you feel the need to punish this little parrot for no reason!"

Both Jafar and Iago gasp aloud.

"A princess? Oh wow, that explains everything!" Iago says, sarcastically as he bumps his own head in a mock-tap. 

Jafar rushes her and leans over her, his stance towering and lissome. "A princess? You wouldn't happen to be the daughter of Zaman, would you?"

She holds Iago closer, for fear that Jafar might snatch him out of her hands. "Yes, I am. and I am his only living child left and the heir to his kingdom. Now, tell me--- are you the vizier to Hamad?"

He is forced to deal his hand. "Yes, I am but still--- how is it that another princess of a different kingdom comes to be in my dungeons?"

Iago looks up at her and cocks his head to the side, putting his hands on his little, pudgy belly. "Best tell him, lady."

She is fearless. She stares Jafar dead in the eye, unable to look away. In each moment that passes, she finds herself becoming more relucant to stand up for herself and the little parrot she holds. 

"I was venturing through the tunnels beneath my palace, trying to return. And for some reason, I happened to come across one that led me here. If you don't believe me, look at the wall behind me. Surely you can't be naive enough to not believe what I'm saying. I'm sure you've known all along how the palaces are connected and where that door goes. Satisfied now?"

Her defiance sets a smile on Jafar's face; it seems so rare, so malicious that he give her such a grin, but she is unaffected. Iago flutters out of her hands and perches upon a post, one that sits above in the rafters of the dungeons. He watches quietly and through parted feathers. 

"Hmm. It seems you might be truthful after all," Jafar ruses. "But how is it that you believe that we've met in your dreams?"

Jahanara says nothing as her hand reaches upward, touching his face. With the single touch, he feels a jolt of magic surge through his flesh, electrifying his skin as she shows him a vision of them meeting in her sleep. He sees himself as he is, and when she breaks the contact with his face, he steps back and shakes his head.

"How did you..."

She puts her hands against her chest and innocently looks at him. "Because, we are the same. We both are imbued with magic, but never really knowing why we have it. And do not lie to me further, Jafar; don't deny that you met me without purpose. Don't you have a prophecy to explain, like Iago mentioned?"

And how she beats him to the point.

Her brow arches as he seems speechless. He stands firm, but is not so easily threatened or intimidated either. Instead, he glides towards her and wraps an arm around her waist, alarming her as he pulls her in. With his free hand, he puts the staff in front of her and tries to hypnotize her.

"You will go back to where you came from and forget that we met," he says, his tone strangely different. "You will not remember me or the dreams you've had. You will not return to these dungeons or say anything to anyone. Everything you've encountered has been but a fantasy."

And in his arm, she seems to be floating; her body does not feel heavy, and she feels as if all gravity has forsaken her. Her eyes are closed half-way, and her breasts heave softly as he finishes his words. The eyes of the snake staff glow red, as do hers. 

"Now, go back and do not return, Princess. Remember this as but a fantasy..."

But she revives herself from this hypnotic trance. It does not affect her in the slightest anymore, and its effects wear off. Jafar is amazed at her resistance, but is still unable to think of how else to make her leave. Nevertheless, he takes something out from his sleeve and squeezes the small nozzle of the bottle, whereas it allows a small cloud of a sleeping draught to enter the close proximity of her face. Jahanara immediately falls into his arms and he catches her, picking her up into his embrace.

"Watch the potions, Iago--- I will be back."


	7. Chapter 7

When she awakes, she is in a different kind of chamber. All around her, there are soft reds and blacks in plain view, along with another set of embroidered pillows to surround her with their softness. She lies upon a lounging sofa, much like the one in her palace. It is so soft, so spacious that she sinks deep into its cushions like a leaf on water.

She is so damnably full of curiosity. She thinks about where she is, why she's there, but already, she knows who put her there. In the room, the vizier himself stands out on a balcony that watches over the city of Agrabah. His back is turned towards her, but still, she can sense how he feels somewhat. It is a mixture of mistrust, of worry; he does not know how to comprehend the situation and neither does she.

"Jafar?"

He does not answer her.

Jahanara stands upright and rakes a hand through the waves of her black hair. She feels as if she has been induced into a voluptuous array of sensations. As she walks towards him, she can feel the warmth of the new, fresh air enter her nostrils. Her world seems to have changed, but she wonders why he has brought her here, instead of returning her.

She tries to speak to him again. "Jafar, please talk to me..."

He finally breaks the silence, saying, "There is nothing to talk about, Princess; go lie down and rest."

And how he commands her!

"Honestly, Jafar, why won't you speak to me?"

She now tenderly touches his red-clad arm, and he looks down at her, still resistant. He shifts away from her and walks back into his chambers, where smoke arises into the night breeze. It is incense, burning bright and warmly. It is the same scent she herself burns in her rooms, and she then believes that he has been watching her more intently than she originally believed.

"Tell me how you glimpsed me," she says, following him close. "Please, I must know."

He turns and faces her, his auburn eyes aflame with the oddest sight. She does not know how to interpret the look in his irises, and as she told Niama, she feels comfortably safe around him. Without saying a single word, Jafar takes her hand and escorts her over to a corner, where a singular, large crystal ball sits on a golden stand of snakes.

\--

He points to the crystal, which forms a red cloud inside its glass. She stares into it softly, and watches as the cloud forms another vision for her to see.

It is of two silhouettes--- theirs to be more precise--- and they are entwined, wrapped in each other's arms. It seems that the silhouettes are content with one another, but another shape comes and tears her away from him; to her shock, the shape of the vizier falls to his knees and appears to be weeping into his hands. It horrifies the Princess, and so she gasps with a hint of terror to her tone.

But then the shift of the color goes from dark red to a lighter shade, like vermillion, and then little bolts of lightning form in the crystal, and his silhouette is shown to be cursing the one who ripped her away, his staff glowing in the dark, its eyes brightly evil.

It is then that the vision begins to fade, just as her own silhouette returns to find that his is shape-shifted into a djinn. Jahanara cannot believe what she sees, and so, clasps her face into her own hands. She sobs as the vision ends, and Jafar says nothing to her.

It is then that she begs him to speak. "Why does it show that? Tell me, please!"

Jafar, in his darkly demeanor, replies to the Princess in his velvet-rich, deep voice. "I do not know why, Princess. It is only the fragment of a prophecy projected."

"What prophecy?"

He once again takes her hand and he leads her back down to his dungeons. It is there that he finds an ancient-looking scroll and unwraps it.

"This scroll may seem old, but it was written only seventeen years ago. It holds the writings of a riddle that serves as a prophecy."

She looks down and observes the writing in their Arabic tongue:

_Rose of red, sorceress of wisdom,_   
_Brings to the fold that which departs_   
_The knowledgeable blackness of heart_

_For seventeen years all must wait_   
_For all dreams and fears to be slate,_   
_As all that rises in the west slowly fades;_

_In she will rest the power to tame he,_   
_One who will rise to conquer all that is free,_   
_In hopes that one night, all will be saved by love..._

\--

She hadn't the heart to say it out loud. After all, this was confusing her. She'd only just met him, and didn't even know what he was truly like. Yet somehow, he'd shown her. He didn't hurt her, didn't bother to throw her into the dungeons; he had hypnotized her, yes, but he carried her to his chambers. And besides, her womanhood was untouched.

She swallowed a forming pain in her throat and said, "But what does it mean?"

He scoffed and replied. "It means that there are dangers down the road, Princess. Do not be so naive of what you now know. Now come with me. I will take you before the Sultan."

\--

She follows beside him in silence.

She is adorned in a new veil, one that seems more beautiful than the one she previously wore. It sits upon her head and as she walks beside the royal vizier, she appears as if she is being drawn to a wedding banquet. Except, she still does not know how to feel. She wants to accept what is happening, but how can she? She barely knows what he is.

"Your Highness," Jafar says, approaching a small, fat little man, "I have brought someone here to see you."

The little man turns around and she sees his face. It is her uncle, Hamad, the Sultan of Agrabah; he is more white in the face than she remembers, but still knows that he is the just ruler than she knew from long before. In simple courtesies, she bows to him.

He runs over to see her more clearly, and he claps his hands together at the sight of her.  
He is excited, giddy like a child, and as he lifts her face up with his hands, he gleams.

"My niece, my dear, dear niece! Oh, it's been so long!" the Sultan laughs.

He hugs her swift and jumps up and down, his little legs becoming like jelly. He plops down and she laughs in return. She helps him up and brushes off his turban.

"Hello, Uncle," Janni says.

Jafar says nothing and observes her in silence. He remembers then what he has to do, and so, interrupting them briefly, he bows. "I apologize, Your Highnesses, but might I have your leave to go? I have important matters to attend to."

The Sultan thinks nothing of it. "Of course, Jafar! I don't want to keep my royal vizier from his hard, appreciated work. Go now and we'll call for you later."

Jafar pretends to be content with the ruler, but as he turns away, Jahanara seems how annoyed he is. She furrows her brows and tilts her head to the side. She feels pity for him, though she does not know why. As she looks at Jafar with sad eyes, the Sultan sees her reaction.

"Oh, come now, Janni--- Jafar just likes to overreact sometimes; it's quite his trademark," he beams. "Besides, I think he rather likes you. Now, I think there's a certain somebody who would like to see you... again! Jasmine! She's here!"


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to give a big shoutout of gratuity to leopardchic79 for being supportive of my work. And as always, #teamjafar for the win! 

When she's not looking, Jahanara can feel someone punch her side. "Ow!" she exclaims. "What---"

And there she sees Jasmine, furious understandably, standing there in front of her. Her slender tan hands are on her hips, and the cub is beside her, pouting equally. The Princess of Agrabah is staring her in the eye and when she steps forward, she huffs.

"You ran off! Why did you run off, Janni? I thought the worst had happened!"

The Sorceress is at a loss for words. She understands her cousin's annoyance with her, but does not know how to help her ease off her agitation. She leans down and sighs, taking Jasmine's hand into hers. 

"I'm so sorry, Jasmine," she says. "It was wrong of me to leave you, but my father wants me to get married; I don't want to limit my life to a boring routine. Naturally, I was upset and again, I'm sorry for leaving you there. Perhaps when you're older you'll understand. Can you forgive me?"

The younger princess picks up her pet tiger and allows the little one to nibble Janni's hand; the cub does not bite her so hard to draw blood, but enough for a little pain to come. Jasmine quirks a brow and says, "See? Rajah says you're alright. Just don't leave us again, okay?"

Janni lets a hum leave her throat as she replies, smiling and bowing. "If that is what the Princess commands."

Jasmine giggles. "Of course, I command it! Now, let's go eat. Sit right by me!"

\--

When they feast upon the banquet the Sultan has had his cooks prepare, the sorceress is at her wit's end. She cannot stop thinking about what the Sands of Reverie had shown her, nor could she forget the look on Jafar's face when she touched his arm. It was a little maddening for her, but she knew, deep down, that she would find a way. 

Jasmine seems content throughout the whole duration of the meal. Rajah sits on her lap, gnawing again on a piece of meat, whereas he later drank water from a gold saucer. He seems pleased enough to be Jasmine's little friend, and for her sake, Janni has the courtesy to be happy for her. Still, she worries. She has promised to keep Jasmine safe, somehow, but at the same time, she is worried for the very man she yearns to protect her from. Truly, she is at a crossroads, and does not know what to do.

But as she thinks inwardly to herself, she stands up. "Uncle, may I be excused? I fear I am not feeling well."

The Sultan is all but too understanding. "Of course, little one, you may go. Shall I send a doctor for you?"

"Oh no, I believe it will pass soon. I just need to rest."

He nods and smiles tenderly at her. "Sleep tight, sweet Janni."

Even as she walks away, she ventures down the halls and towards the chambers he has given her. The sound of the beads on her dress echo, as if they are bells, but she does not want to give herself away. She feigned an illness just now, and had the urge, no--- the dire compulsion--- to investigate this vizier furthermore. 

She entered her chambers and switched into more comfortable, loose clothing, a dress that was still embroidered beautifully but was not so heavy. She threw on a saree and carefully, made her way down to the corridor where she knew Jafar's chambers were.

But she would not go empty-handed. Instead, she grabs a bowl of fruit and a pitcher of the finest red wine. In silence, she begins to descend into the darkness of the palace.

\--

"Honestly, mighty evil one--- couldn't we just wait until we know a little more? I mean why go through all this hubbub to see if a little doll's gonna be a threat to our plans?" Iago chimes. 

Again, he mocks the parrot and bats him away. Iago catches himself and flies to sit upon the crystal ball. He sticks his tongue out at Jafar, while he isn't looking, and in the midst of making faces, he notices that Jahanara has once again entered the dungeons.

Iago loses his balance and falls down, exclaiming as he lands on his blue tail and rump. Janni silently walks over to him in a swift stride, putting the pitcher down and bringing him to sit upon her shoulder. He's astounded by her kindness and does not know what to do. Just as he's about to speak, she puts a finger to his beak and picks up the pitcher.

"You know, Jafar, if you ever wanted to know something, all you have to do is ask me instead of wasting all your materials for a hypnosis spell," she says.

He turns around and throws a hand to his chest, caught off-guard again. "Princess!"

He notices Iago is slumped over her shoulder, and he crosses his arms in mild contempt. "Again--- the little lady just barged in!" the parrot sputters. He flies off her shoulder and transfers to Jafar's, whose eyes are now looking her over. She keeps the bowl of fruit on her hip and the pitcher of wine in her free hand. He arches one black brow. 

"Princess, might I ask what you're doing here, again?"

Janni feels her heart throbbing in her chest from a rush of panic and anticipation. She lowers the bowl to the table, same with the pitcher. She puts her hands on her hips in a defiant little stance. "I didn't see you at the feast, so I brought you some wine and fruit, thinking that it'd be beneficial for the Sultan's vizier to have something in his stomach."

Jafar waves her off. "I do not sup with the Sultan. I've always been down here in my chambers whenever I take my leave."

That hurts her to hear him say that. "So you're always alone?"

Now he turns darker. "Do not try to pity me, girl. I do not need it, especially from a princess who doesn't know when to stay out of other people's domains."

She purses a brow and crosses her arms too, without even noticing she copies Jafar. He puts his hands on his hips and grovels. "I can see you're not going to leave unless I have some wine with you, are you?" 

"You guessed right, vizier."

Oh, how defiant she is, how brave! She sees that there is an empty cup beside the pitcher, and so, she pours him a glass and gives it to him, the thin stalk of the cup out for him to take. Jafar is reluctant to have her leave, so he takes from her and drinks.

"Fine, girl--- I'll share this with you, then you leave."

"Very well. Just come into the chambers with me, though. I don't like to see you down here in the dust and grime."

He mockingly bows. "As you wish, Princess."

\--

There is only one pomegranate left when the two are done consuming most of the bowl. It sits prompt and red in the middle, and when she reaches for it, he goes to turn away. She unsheathes a knife and cuts the fruit down the center, slicing it rather deep.

"I meant for you to stay until all of the fruits and wine were gone," she atones. 

He stops in his wake and lounges beside the bowl. She passes him the other half of the pomegranate, and carefully, as if he's trying to avoid her touches, he takes it from her. He slowly plucks out each seed and devours them. It pleases her to see that he's eaten, and it makes her feel grateful to see him drink the wine she brought. She swiftly smiles, and that makes him notice her even more.

"Why do you smile, Princess?"

"Janni or Jahanara. You don't have to call me Princess when we are alone; it's too formal in my opinion."

"But at court, one of lower birth is to call his uppers by their royal titles, or have you forgotten that?"

She moves the bowl away and lies down on her side, too. This makes him feel rather uncertain, but for her sake, for his own sake, he does not move away. Instead, he motions closer to her. Janni's brown eyes stare into his, and as the moonlight hits the dial, she looks over her shoulder and eyes how beautiful the skies are. Then, she contracts an idea.

"Do you ride at night, Jafar?"

Now he sits up and gawks. "Are you serious, Princess?"

In return, she copies him. She puts her glass down and rises, her hand extended outward for him to take. "Surely you're not afraid to be seen with a sorceress."

He does not know what to do. As if he is an adolescent boy again, he looks at Iago and the parrot shrugs his shoulders, his eyes wide and his head shaking. Jafar figures that his bird would not be helpful in the matter. Nevertheless, he stands and takes her hand.

"If this is what you command, Jahanara," he empathises, "I am your servant."


	9. Chapter 9

She cannot believe it. She has gotten him out of the palace and down in the stables with her. In an instant, she picks out a beautiful white mare, one who whinnies gently at her presence. Janni grabs a saddle and puts it on the mare's back, and careful, mounts her with ease, with grace. The Princess does not pull hard on the reins, but softly holds them. Jafar, on the other hand, picks a dark black horse, one whose grey mane is ruffled. She can see him mumbling beneath his breath, and that makes her laugh.

"Princ-- Jahanara," he corrects himself. "This is madness."

She smirks at him and then remembers why she's going for a midnight ride with him; she must get as much from him as she possibly can, to understand why he seems so dead-set on acquiring as much power as he can no matter what the cost. Though it pains her to do so, she becomes rather content and puts on a different persona as she mushes the horse forward.

"Come along now," she laughs. "This should make for an interesting night."

Jafar undoubtedly goes through with her request and mounts the horse. He follows her as she leads him out the back gate, one she's memorized the entrance to so many times. She leads her white horse out into the open, and there's nothing but desert in front of them. The dunes are dark, shaped blue by the moonlight and still, seem perfectly quiet.

The guards know who she is and what she is, and therefore do not wish to offend her or stop her in anyway; they move aside and say nothing as Jafar follows behind her in the night. Not only do they know of her, they also know that he is not one to fool with.

\--

When he finally catches up to her, she has dismounted her horse and now stands upon a perfect dune, with a strange device in her hand. It is a magnifying glass, shaped in an oval and with a handle attached to its bottom; it holds the glass upright and so, it looks like a mask though rather clear. She is searching the skies with it, and he sees her face.

She is smiling, smiling wide and with clear lines on her face. Her black hair is roaming in the winds, and he can smell the lingering scent of the dragon's blood incense on her clothes. Jahanara turns around and looks at him, again with an extended hand reaching.

"Jafar, you must come see what I found!"

He begins to see why she is so different from any other princess he's ever known. Jasmine, as he knows, is nothing like her; she is adventurous, yes, but not as exotic, not as intent on finding and discovering new things with her intellect. He knows that Jahanara is more like him--- a mystic, a sorcerer at heart; he can sense it and feel it so.

In the calm of night, he walks over to her and she passes him the glass; she points to the star that sits between two bright stars in the skies. Jafar looks through the glass and strangely enough, listens to her as she begins to weave him a tale. 

"That's Orion, a fanciful constellation. It's a powerful union of three stars, and is often said to be inspired by the hunter. Legend has it that the sea-god Neptune is his father, and Queen Euryale is his mother. He inherited her trait of hunting and became rather renowned; however, the legend also has it that he was killed outright by the single sting of a scorpion. I suppose if you brag about trying to best each animal on this earth, that one small and deadly will ultimately lead to your downfall," she mourns.

Jafar takes notice of how intelligent she is. He begins to admire that about her, though he'd rather gouge his eyes out than admit it out loud; he doesn't want to appear as weak in her eyes. But as the winds pick up, he sees a star fall. Jahanara's eyes widen and she grasps onto the front of his robes, still staring up into the skies. Jafar almost drops the glass from shock, but he throws an arm around her, to steady her close and near.

Slowly, the two allow their eyes to meet. In a gentle voice, she asks, "What did you wish for?"

Jafar does not believe in such things as simplistic as a wish, but if he did, he would wish for something good to come his way, for someone who could redeem him from a life lived in boredom and solitude. To lead her astray, he replies, "You should never ask, Princess."

She smiles briefly, then continues to look him in the eye. He lowers the glass into his robes and takes her hands into his; this is the closest he's ever been to someone else, and he knows it, as she does too. Though she is many years younger than he is, he feels as if he's known her for forever. Jahanara does not waste time though, and bravely, as the wind makes her tumble against his chest, she breathes softly into his hollow.

He is taken with her then and as a supportive servant, wraps both arms around her as she steadies her balance. Her black hair flows against the black of his robes, and as the winds continue to progress, he wraps his long, massive cape around her, to shield her from the sand grains that might flow into her eyes. And for his efforts, she is thankful.

\--

The ride back to the palace was ever intriguing. 

As they ride past the huts, the small buildings in which the peasants live, all who see them can observe that there is a smile burning wide upon the Princess' face. She wore no veil, no shawl or saree any longer, and only her black hair was sweeping in the wind.

Her white horse is illuminated by the white of the moon, and although she appears like a white djinni in the dead of night, a beautiful figure come from Allah's good graces, Jafar follows behind her like a shadow of an ifrit. He frightens those who see him, and as he rides past them, following the Princess in every turn, they step back and cower.

He revels in their fear, drinks it in as if it is the sweetest of elixirs. 

But as they approach the palace, they motion their horses to go back towards the stables. The horses are tired, they know, and so they dismount quickly, feed them and water them altogether. Jahanara tucks away her mare while Jafar puts his horse in a solitary corner. When she is finished putting the mare away, she walks back over to Jafar, who now turns to face her in the rays of moonlight.

She seems rather resplendent. There is a certain glow about her, and she seems positively radiant. Before the guards come back around, he takes her hand and pulls it up to his thin lips, and kisses the surface of her soft skin tenderly, his mustache brushing her knuckles. Her breathing becomes labored, as she is taken by this act.

Though he is nearly a foot and two inches taller than her, she uses his position for her own. Jahanara takes her hand away, and as he looks down at her, now eye-level, she takes his face into her hands and slowly, she puts her lips to his. It is out of sight of the guards that she does this, but still, she would not care if all of Agrabah and Nestarizan looked. Jafar's eyes widen as she sinks into his arms, and in return, he holds her.

And now an overwhelming sensation of fear covers her. She breaks the kiss and plants her forehead against his, the jewel she wears now touching his. She releases his face and shivers, knowing she has done wrong. Jahanara steps back and with tears in her eyes, she turns, looks away and shudders as her breath leaves her in doubtful wisps.

"Princess..."

Just as he tries to speak to her, she runs. She lifts the front of her dress and leaves him in the stables. As she runs into the secretive entrance, she follows the burning torches back to her chambers. By Allah, she has done wrong, so much wrong. 'I have betrayed Jasmine,' she thinks. 'Here I have promised to defend her, but now, I have kissed the one who frightens her beyond all rationality! How disgraceful I am! Sweet cousin, I am sorry!'


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene was inspired by the one in Bram Stoker's Dracula where Vlad reveals himself to Mina.

She does not eat when she wakes. No, she does not even drink. Jahanara lies in her chambers and stares blankly at the arabesque tiles of her pool, of the ceiling and all its ancient design. She turns onto her side and the sun comes, and even then, she does not feel warm. In turn, she feels disgusted with herself at the thought of betraying Jasmine.

She sobs into her pillows and hides her face, cowering from whatever sunlight there is.

In her stomach, she feels pits of illness; it feels, to her, as if someone is squeezing her inner walls, her throat and heart. It has never felt this way to her, and yet, she knows the feeling all too well. Her brown eyes become heavy and waxy. Though she is alone, she knows that sooner or later, her father will send word to her by a messenger. But who?

\--

The Sultan himself came into her chambers the moment he heard she would not eat. He was a pudgy little man, but he ran as fast he could to the despair of his niece. He knocked on her doors and cried out, "Janni? Dearest, are you alright?"

She does not answer. He carefully walks in, tip-toes as if he is a mere mouse. But, his clumsiness prevails and he knocks over a table, tripping over his own two feet. He falls down and lets out an 'oof' sound, one which stirs the Princess awake from her melancholy slumber.

Upon realizing who it is, she runs over. "Uncle!"

She leans down and helps him up, once again brushing off any debris there might be. He spits out a feather from his turban, but he shakes his head and regains his reasons. He cups her hand and pats it, saying, "I'm fine, but my sweet niece, why aren't you eating? My servants say you haven't touched anything, nor have you left these rooms. What is wrong?"

She sniffles through her tears and tries to muster a smile, but knows she cannot.

Instead, she walks back to her sofa and sits down. Her black waves once again fall over her shoulders, and she tilts her head to the side, looking away in self-disgust. She wraps her arms around herself, cries and holds onto herself. She cannot bring herself to talk about him. No, not even with the father of the girl she said she would protect.

"Very well," the Sultan says. "But please, dearest--- eat something, yes?"

She nods at his wish. She takes an apple in hand and to please him, takes a bite in his presence. The Sultan claps his hands together and nods in return, then leaves with his head hung low. He does not know what to do for his niece, and so, he goes to find one he believes will help handle the situation: he goes off to find Jafar.

\--

While she lies still, there is a fluttering sound close by her head. Janni awakes again and this time, finds that Iago is sitting at the foot of the sofa on its curled arm. He flies onto her stomach momentarily and spits out a piece of paper that falls onto her belly.

"Jafar wanted me to drop that off for ya," the parrot explains. "And he wants ya to come see him when you get the chance. I ain't never seen the man like this, but he's worried. He says he found something out that you might wanna hear."

And before she can ask anything, Iago flies out the window and out of sight. All she sees is the tip of his blue tail fading into the distance. She grunts at the little parrot, but in modest concern, she goes to light a candle. She strikes two stones together and the wick is set aflame. She gathers the paper into her hand and eagerly begins to read it.

_"Princess,_

_"I must insist that you come at once. I know there is much left unsaid between us, and perhaps I have found a solution to this problem. Meet me in my chambers by midnight; come alone and try to stay unseen. If you cannot come, have Iago bring back a letter of correspondence and as always, I remain your faithful servant._ "

It seemed utterly romantic, like the tales of old, but she knew deep down that there was to be tension. It was frightening her, just enough to the point that she gathered the candle in her hand and went to her balcony. She put the edge of the letter over the flame, and immediately, she tossed it off the edge and watched it fall, burning to ash.

\--

She does as he instructed. She comes alone, at midnight, to his quarters and waits. He does not show for an hour, but when the moon hides, he finally comes out from behind a wall.

"Princess..."

She keeps her distance and tries to be brave, though she knows she cannot be so in his presence. She loves him and that is what pains her. "What do you want, Jafar?"

He looks past her, to see if she has been followed or spotted by a guard. He takes her hand, and silently, takes her through the wall and down the stairs again. It seems routine for her, but this time, she wishes it to be the last time that she gazes into the Sands of Time. Jafar's cape trails behind them and he carries her down the last step, as it is broken. With one thin arm, he lifts her and sets her down, her dress fluttering in the air.

"This," he says. "This is why I summoned you."

He holds out yet another scroll, and she takes it from him. Under the glow of the red candles, it shows more words, but this time, it is like a completion of the original riddle that he had found earlier before:

" _Sands of Reverie, Sands of Time_  
 _All come together at first moon_  
 _When all is to return to dust soon,_

_In hours of love and despair_   
_One of flesh and blood prepare,_   
_For hers is the decision that counts;_

_For dark is he who yearns for power,_   
_And all shall wither as if all is sour,_   
_Unless he is stopped by enchantment;_

_Upon the blood moon of yesteryear_   
_And of one to surmount earthly fear,_   
_She must choose wisely of how to end it all_

_Should she choose her beloved over family,_  
 _Forsaken shall she be in all living memory,_  
 _As her heart and life is what sacrifice yearns for_."

\--

She drops the scroll and begins to shake. He does not know what to do, except to rush her and try to hold her in his arms. In an outlash, she weeps aloud and steps away.

"No! I cannot believe that you would try to do such a thing!"

Jafar's brow rises and his mouth turns into a straight line. She knew that he was dark, knew that he was mischievous in all actuality, but she never thought that her love for him would eventually call for a sacrifice--- a sacrifice of her soul, a sacrifice of life.

"How could you show me that!" she cries.

He is rippling against her thoughts, his every move like that of a snake's. She tries not to look at him, and as she slumps to her knees, she cries and buries her face in her hands. Jafar holds her then and gathers her into his arms. Bridal-like, he carries her up the flight and she refuses to look at him. Her eyes are devoid and she feels broken.

\--

"You knew well of the consequences when you entered the palace," he objects. "Why do you think I was trying to ship you off?"

She is appalled. Her heart is racing, her mind overflowing. She shakes her head and beats her hands against his chest. "But, but I can't understand why you are so cold, so cruel! Who or what has done this to you? What makes you believe you can enslave an entire kingdom to yourself? Hmm? Answer me that, Jafar!"

He holds onto her wrists and he painfully pulls her off of him. Though she fights, she does not want to end it. She does not want to leave him, she does not want to make him fade out of sight. No, she wants him; and he wants her, she can see it in his very eyes.

"I love you," she whispers. "Allah forgive me, I do."


	11. Chapter 11

Jasmine searches for her cousin, but all she finds is an empty chamber. There is smoke fluttering from the cones of incense, the smell pleasant and hearty. She enters further and starts to look around, Rajah following her with every step she takes.

The bengal cub finds something small, something breakable. He is about to bat at it, but Jasmine stops him, for fear he might break it and cut himself. She takes it away from the cub and holds it up in the air, under the candlelight to see what it is. In sight, it is a smaller version of a crystal ball; it is large enough to be the size of a melon, but heavy enough with its glass figure. Jasmine, along with Rajah, sits down and gazes into it.

Together, they both look into the crystal and see something forming.

It is a vision, except in the present. It shows her cousin and the man Jasmine fears most. She becomes confused immediately, shaking her head with her brows risen in fear, in panic. Rajah takes notice of this and purrs into her neck, trying to comfort her.

"Jafar," Janni says, her voice echoing, "I would have you keep away from Jasmine, hear me? You scare that poor girl beyond all repair. If you want to torment someone, then torment me, not her!"

Jafar, in the crystal, seems more horrifying as he leans tall over Janni. His turban casts dark shadows on his face, but his back is turned away, so Jasmine cannot see his face clearly. Still, the young princess continues to watch as Jafar argues with her cousin.

"I'm the royal vizier! Where her father goes, so does she! It's ridiculous for you to think that I would do anything towards her; it's childish, not to mention the fact that it implies that you think I'm foul. Go now and leave, leave before I change my mind."

Jahanara does not back away. Instead she walks forward and clasps onto Jafar's robes. "I'm not afraid of you, at least not anymore. I am only looking out for my cousin, and if you do not obey me, I have the power to leave and never return. Would you honestly want me to leave and never come back, even after what we shared?"

Jasmine is so unsure of what her cousin means. And why, she thinks, does Janni hold onto Jafar like that? There are so many things she does not understand, but when she sees that Jafar cups Janni's face, the vision fades and suddenly, the crystal becomes so heavy that Jasmine can no longer hold it up. It falls out of her hands and shatters sharp.

\--

Tears fall down Jahanara's face as she kisses Jafar. He holds her up against his figure, her small arms wrapped around his neck. It is a forbidden love to say the least, and if her father discovers she loves a man before matrimony, especially one of somewhat lesser birth, how quickly he would disown her, regardless if she's his beloved daughter and last heir.

She finishes kissing him and as he sets her down, Iago makes a gagging sound and flies away, leaving the two alone. While she holds her face against the warmth of Jafar's chest, she hears how shallow, how faint his heartbeat it, that she wonders if he has a heart at all. But obviously he does, else he wouldn't kiss her in return or hold her close.

"Please, Jafar--- Just don't hurt Jasmine; promise me that you will always keep your word and serve only as the vizier to her father. I don't want anyone getting hurt, and besides, I swear on my life, I will always be yours. Do you hear me? I am yours."

He finds it to be a tempting offer. He finds that with his power over her, that he will be able to find a way into the royal bloodlines somehow. Deep down, though, he does have some kind of conscience, and finds that he loves her so damnably much, that he is unable to show how he really feels without the use of a grim look upon his face.

In a defeated tone, he answers. "You have my word."

She moves her lips again with a hushed sigh. "But do I have your love?"

He takes her deeper into his arms, crushing her against chest; he lowers his forehead down to touch her scalp, whereas he assures her with the tenderest kiss he can offer. But what she can't see is the look of deceit clouding his eyes, those which burn bright. 

"Assuredly, my princess."

\--

When Jahanara returns from his dungeons, she finds Jasmine is waiting for her in her rooms. The younger princess seems distraught. There are fresh tears in her eyes and her cousin cannot understand why they trinkle down her face. She walks over to her, kneeling. She puts her hands on Jasmine's face, but the princess bats them away.

"How could you, Janni!"

Jasmine pushes her away and the sorceress falls onto her back, her hands unable to catch her in time. The shards of the broken crystal slice into her palms, and the red fluid reminds her of what transpires when one betrays their own blood. Then it occurs to Jahanara--- Jasmine had glimpsed both her and Jafar through that very crystal.

She knows now why her cousin is so mad, is so angry with her that her little face trembles. Janni kneels upright and tries to plead with her. "Jasmine, I'm so sorry."

"How could you say that you would protect me? You're not protecting anyone but him! I told you how much he scares me, Janni, and yet you pledge yourself to him! How could you?"

"Jasmine, please!"

"Guards, guards!"

Two burly men come in and wait for Jasmine's command. With sadness and hurt in her eyes, Jasmine points at Janni and speaks. "Take her back to Nestarizan where she belongs. I don't want to look at her anymore."

Breath after breath hitches in her throat; Jahanara is unable to process what is happening. In the heat of the moment, the men take her into custody and drag her by the arms, carefully, out of her chambers and down the corridor. Her veil falls off her head.

"Jasmine, please! Jasmine, please let me explain!" Janni whimpers. "No, don't!"

\--

For hours, the guards from Agrabah transfered her in the dark, taking her away. The domes and points of the palace columns sank out of view, and all the way, Jahanara cried, wept and sobbed, never once resting her eyes or her throat as she wailed.

Her wrists are bound and the camel she rides does not grow tired; instead it carries her dutifully, and as she tries to sit upright, she falls. The weight of the sand catches her and the guards dismount to pick her back up.

'I have failed you, Jasmine,' she thinks again. 'I have failed you and it is all my fault; by some day, I hope you become the queen and see fit to let me decide my fate.'


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jahanara's feelings aren't interpreted in the chapter, so we get to see the sensitive side of the royal vizier.

When Jafar is summoned by the Sultan, he walks into the throne room without hesitation. He sees Jasmine, the tiger and the Sultan himself, but he ponders--- where is his beloved princess? 

As he approaches with Iago on his shoulder, he bows before the Sultan and goes down on one knee. "You sent for me, Your Highness?"

The Sultan's throat catches. He does not know how to explain it, nor how to say it, but he instead looks at Jasmine. "Daughter, would you perhaps excuse us? I must speak with Jafar alone."

The Princess' eyes grow fervent with anger. She does not understand why she has to be excluded, but nevertheless, she gathers Rajah into her arms and walks off. As she passes Jafar, she gives him a venomous look. He bows his head towards her, but never once does he say anything to her; he is trying to honor his princess with her requests.

\--

After Jasmine leaves, Jafar rises and approaches the Sultan as he sits down on his throne. The old ruler seems despondant, famished; it is a curious sight to behold, and Jafar grows rather tedious. His lithe hands, skeletal in their appearance, grip his staff tightly as he waits to hear the Sultan speak; finally, the fat little man moves his mouth.

"Jafar, I can't understand it. What purpose does it serve to leave one's veil behind, but especially without a note?"

The vizier's thick, dark brows furrow together. Iago looks at him with his beady little yellow eyes, but the master he serves does not return the gaze; instead, his mouth opens and he walks up the small step, looming over the Sultan.

"What do you mean?"

The Sultan trembles at Jafar's face; he's always treated him with kindness, but deep down, he fears his own royal vizier. He stammers like a child, saying, "Jahanara is gone. She apparently fled in the night, and Jasmine hasn't seen or heard from her at all."

For the first time in his life, the vizier is completely terrified; he does not know what to say in return, but as he stands upright, Iago moves to the snake head of his staff. The parrot sees that his master is distressed. His auburn eyes turn cold, perhaps are even slightly watery; he has never seen Jafar like this before, and takes in a thought or two.

'Not my princess,' Jafar thinks to himself. 'I have alarmed her, frightened her, and now she is gone, perhaps never to return as she vowed. By Allah, I must find her again.'

In a valiant voice, he faces the Sultan and looks down, his baggy eyes slitted. He quivers in fear and says, "Not to worry, Your Highness--- I will track down your niece and see to it that she is returned to either your kingdom or hers, whichever you decide."

The Sultan mumbles and jumps down from his throne. "Please, Jafar, bring her home. I can't stand to think that my young niece is out there all alone, possibly in the presence of thieves or bandits!"

Jafar bows once and walks off into the distance, his black cape slithering behind him. 

\--

"Jafar? Jafar, hello!"

Iago flies over his head with a pattern of uneven beats, and as he notices the look of horror on Jafar's face, he's unable to comprehend just what the vizier is feeling. As he enters his dungeons, Jafar places his staff against the brick walls and runs up the flight.

He is anxious, vehement and feels as if there is an inflamed feeling in his heart. As he finally reaches the Sands of Time, he grips the table and kneels before it, his worst dreams coming true as he begs its mercy.

"Sands of Time, reveal to me the location of Jahanara!"

The sand grains swiftly turn decadent if only for a minute, then show him what he does not want to see. She is slung over the back of her camel, the guards from the Agrabah palace still escorting her. She is unconscious, and her black hair weaves in the winds like thousands of small, individual Egyptian asps; though asleep, the look of despair is upon her beautiful face. Jafar stands then and throws a vial of a rather dark substance against the walls of the dungeon. It slithers down the brick crevices like rivers of black.

"No! No, no!"

He is grievous to say the least. Iago ducks as the shards of the vial go flying, and he flaps his wings in an attempt to move out of the way. "Sheesh," he whispers to himself. "I wonder what's eating him."

He doesn't think Jafar hears him, but oh, is he wrong. The vizier snarls at the parrot.

"She is my responsibility, Iago, that's what's eating me! If you ever had the decency to think outside that little bird's brain of yours, you would understand why I'm feeling extremely tormented!"

Iago puts up his wings in defense. "Okay, okay, sheesh--- sorry I blew up! But what are you gonna do, go after her? She's probably a thousand miles away, Your Evilness. Is this lady really worth the bother though?"

Jafar, in his fits of aching, slumps down onto the stone steps and puts his face into his hands. For the first time in his life, he is weeping most uncontrollably. This throws Iago for a spin as he watches his master let loose some unbearable wailing. 

"Okay, look--- it wasn't my place to say that, but think about it! Without that little woman in the picture, there's only one princess you gotta worry about!"

Then an awful idea strikes Jafar's mind. He cocks his head up and looks at the parrot, suddenly taking him by the belly and reeling him in. "Iago, you made me think! With one princess in custody, I could discover the reason why my beloved is gone."

Iago shakes his head and squawks. "But I thought you promised that loopy red witch that you wouldn't talk to Jasmine, or go near her!"

Jafar stands and retrieves his staff, his eyes seething with hatred. "Desperate measures are sometimes called for, Iago: remember that."

\--

Jasmine is prepared for bed when she starts to comb her hair. The teeth of the comb stalks through her hair, and as she stares into her mirror, by the new candlelight, she discovers then she is not alone. Standing in the dark, Jafar remains with his arms crossed.

She nearly screams until he steps forward, the eyes of his snake staff glowing red. She cannot help but stare into the rubies, and when Jafar's voice starts to reverberate in the rooms, she is helpless to stop him.

"Tell me what happened between you and your cousin, Princess. I won't ask again."

Jasmine's face becomes calm, her eyes half opened and her mouth slanted downward. In a trance, she answers the vizier. "I sent her away after I saw she kissed you in her crystal..."

Now he is furiously aberrant. "Tell me more!"

Jasmine shivers and complies. "She told me that she would protect me from you, but she lied; she only wants you safe, to keep you for herself. And so, I got angry with her and I had the guards escort her back to Nestarizan, where she truly belongs."

'Lies,' he thinks. 'You're a lying little wench, and someday, I'll make you pay dearly for sending my love away.'

Jafar then takes out a small vial of a red substance, and he smashes it onto the floor in front of him; the substance turns into a cloud that engulfs him, and he vanishes without a trace. Jasmine awakes from her trance and is confused. She stands and sees the shards of a little glass vial, broken all over floor and she begins to cry. She knows she has done wrong.


	13. Chapter 13

When he sleeps, Jafar tosses and turns. In the hot stickiness of the night, he is sweating, he is groaning; his pulse quickens and he feels a distinct chafe beneath his tan skin. He has sent Iago out to scout, and so, he waits to hear his report once he returns.

Even as he tries to sleep, Jafar's mind is racing with distress, with grief. He sees her over the camel's back and cannot help but claw at his pillows. He feels as though he was the one who drove her away. There is a feeling of a burn in the pits of his stomach.

She had been so intrigued with him, yet so defiant; he feels though, as if she had been sent to him for a reason. He cannot deny that he feels for her, and now that he dreams of her, his fingernails rake across the threads of his night robes. His temples are glistening with sweat, and his Adam's apple bobs hard, caustic in his throat. 

He feels like he has betrayed her, his innocent princess; his princess, he believes, who will perhaps forsake him now in the eve of their afflictions. The fires across the room flicker, and as Jafar mumbles in his sleep, he can feel something. It sits right there at the back of his mind, and for a moment, he jerks violently. It connects him with her, and at last, he walks through a dark landscape of sands, of winds that they had come across.

\--

In this dream-like scape, she approaches him and softly, tenderly, she embraces him. Her lithe arms wrap around his skinny torso, and when he holds her back, he swears she is there, but he knows she is not; it is only a bond they share, a psychic one at that. 

It is folly, he knows.

"Princess, tell me where you are," he begs. "I must know, you must tell me."

She looks up into his eyes and starts to cry. "Jafar, I don't know where I am. I feel like I'm floating in the desert somewhere, and these guards are relentless. I am watched like a hawk, and barely do they leave me alone. Please, help me. Send Iago if you must, but please help. I'm so scared."

How he pains at her words. He leans down and kisses her forehead, his goatee gently brushing against her perfect brows. He does not know what to do, other than what she suggested. But already, Iago was flying out somewhere, searching for her. All he can do is wait. 

Even as he goes to wrap her in his cape again, she starts to fade away. Now he motions restlessly, wildly in his sleep. He reaches for her, but she is being pulled away. 

"Jafar, help!"

His lissome hands reach for hers, but he is unable to catch her in time. She disappears behind the sand dunes and all he hears is the sound of her screams echoing, trembling.

"Janni!"

\--

When he wakes, he screams. He screams at the top of his lungs, a wretched cry and no one can hear him, save for his parrot who has just returned. As Iago flutters over to a wooden perch, he covers his unseen ears with his wings and shivers at Jafar's outcries.

"Hey, it's only me!" Iago says. "I got news, so wake up."

At the sound of the parrot's gruff voice, Jafar sits up and shakily reaches for a glass of wine. He's completely off his edge, and the wine immediately turns sour in his stomach. It is an inauspicious feeling that consumes him; with each minute that passes, he realizes that he is becoming more and more bitter. She is not with him, and he is not with her. It is uncanny for him to think of anything else.

"What news, Iago?"

The parrot flies in front of him and drops something into his lap. It is heavy, and made entirely out of pure gold. Jafar lifts it up to the candlelight and sees that it is a half of something that is shaped like an Egyptian scarab. He gasps as he realizes what he holds.

"Iago, how came you by this?"

Brushing his feathers off, Iago replies in his thickset voice. "Your little lady must've dropped it. I was flying overhead in the desert and the moonlight caught that in its rays."

Jafar rises from his bed and clasps the scarab half to his breast.

'She is still alive,' he thinks. 'She is still alive, and though we spoke in mind only a few minutes ago, I can feel that she is slipping away. I must find her before she gets hurt.'

\--

In an attempt he's practiced many times before, Jafar takes a detrimental path down an abandoned cellar, one that leads out to the stables where his horse remains. Iago does not accompany him, as he knows where his princess is being taken. 

Jafar takes the horse from before, and with its reins in hand, gallops off into the night as he uses the moon as a guide.

The horse leaves its hoof prints in the sand, and with the winds blowing in a bleak manner, the royal vizier is determined that, no matter what the cost, he is to redeem his relationship with his princess.

\--

"We're not going any further till we've had a breather!" 

The guard throws the Princess down onto the sands, where she becomes lathered with every little tiny grain. She coughs from the guard's brute force, and she lies on her side, her hands still bound by the thick, nasty-smelling ropes. 

The way the guards are taking her is but a night's ride. It is a longer path than expected for most who do not use it, but the Princess is easily mortified that she must deal with these men for much longer. In a precarious manner, she cocks her head away as the other guard gets off his camel. 

Her tears smear the kohl on her eyelids, and she appears bruised, bruised from their harsh treatment. She wonders if she shall die here in the desert, without ever seeing the faces of those she knows. Her heart feels rather faint, and as the moon peaks overhead, her eyes close and she breathes lowly.

"Hey, what's wrong with her?"

A guard nudges her leg with the side of his sword, one that he has unsheathed in the moment. "Don't know, but she looks like battered filth."

Just as one approaches her, there are clouds gathering over their heads. The sands shift and she is enveloped in darkness, a moving cloud that gathers her in its form. The sound of a demented laugh rises on the air. It is Jafar, and his eyes are pessimistic; his irises are full of malice, are cunning as he grabs both men and has the ropes fall from her wrists, only to fully wrap around both guards. Both men shake in fear of Jafar.

"Don't hurt us!" the guards say. 

Jafar does not look them in the eye, but as the black cloud brings Jahanara into his arms, he catches her and sees that she is merely dehydrated. Cautiously, he holds onto her whilst digging for a vial of the same red substance he used previously in Jasmine's chambers.

In a tease of gruesome taunting, he holds the unconscious girl to his breast and allows the guards to see his daunting magic. He breaks the vial in his hand, shattering it, and the red cloud engulfs both he and Jahanara in an instant. As they depart, Jafar leaves them with but a haunting message.

"Don't worry, you fools. The adders will provide you with good company, I assure you."


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only minor lovemaking implied. And yes while Jafar is older than she is, in the historical time period, it would be legal for a man to take a bride her age (which is seventeen obviously). Please don't give me hate; thanks for reading!

He pats at her forehead with a damp cloth and though she sleeps soundly, the way her chest rises up and down slowly gives him slight alarm. He has never seen a woman sleep so quietly, and he wonders if there is indeed something wrong with her. Jafar lowers his head to examine her. There are minimal bruises under her jawline, small patches of dark purple upon her flesh; she has been abused, he sees. His knuckles flash white in hate.

'Cowards--- each and every one of them. I swear, my love, I will make them pay dearly for hurting you.'

\--

Iago helps Jafar brew a tea that will revive his princess of her immune system qualities. He cuts lemons and throws them in a cauldron, one which holds a mixture of ginger, honey and essence of lavender combined; it warms over the fire he's made, and when the brew is complete, he puts some into a bowl and brings it over to her bedside.

He cups the back of her neck and gently lifts her upright, so that when he feeds her the tea she will not drown from its warm flow. He takes the bowl in the other hand and when he brings it near, her eyes slowly crack open. She appears like a little doll, one broken and in need of mending. 

"Drink this, Princess," he tells her. 

Janni's brown eyes look around, heavily with content for herself. She sees that Iago is perched by them on a wooden post, but his head is sunk down, as if he is embarrassed or ashamed. Before she says anything, she lets a hand extend out towards Iago's direction.

"You can come here, Iago," she says, weakly. "I won't bite, my friend."

The parrot is afraid. He does not know whether or not if his master will allow him to go near the Princess. He wants to, for some mad reason, and when she continues to hold her hand out, he dare not refuse her. So, he flies his plump little body to her hand, and she reels him in, looking down at the parrot whose eyes are slitted with uncertainty.

"I want to thank you, Iago," Janni proclaims. 

The parrot's brows rise higher than she's ever seen then. "Thank me for what?"

She lowers her head and kisses the top of his beak. "For keeping Jafar in his wits. I don't think anybody but you could've done such a thing, and for that I am grateful."

As if he could go any redder than he is, Iago blushes deeply. He flies out of her hands, mumbling as he goes off into the distance, far away from them both. Jafar is not amused by the parrot's reaction, but he could care less. Only she matters--- his princess, his sin, his heart. Again, he urges her to drink, and weakly, with a shaking hand, he steadies the bowl at her lips as she takes a sip.

\--

"I am sorry," she apologizes.

Jafar's brows come together and as he sits beside her on the lounging cushions, he takes her hand into his and gently places kisses upon her knuckles as he once did before. "Do not apologize, my love. I've dealt with the men and they'll harm you no longer."

She winces in pain as she turns onto her side. She takes her time in trying to make herself comfortable, but she finally lets loose a few tears. In an instant, Jafar touches her now-healing face. "What is wrong?"

"My side. It hurts."

Like a doctor, Jafar begins to examine her. He moves her saree away, only to find that there are multiple cuts on her right side; they seem a little infected, but he still hopes it is nothing too serious. Each cut is red, but with a healing ointment he holds, Jafar gently rubs it over the flesh that is exposed on her side. The ointment is cool to the touch, and when he reaches downward, to the soft curve of her hip. Janni sighs and takes the small bowl of ointment away, thus sitting up to meet her lips with Jafar's.

He takes her into his arms, putting one under her legs and the other around her shoulders. He reels in her small figure, and gently, he returns her kisses as she wraps her arms around his neck, her hands touching the soft hood under his turban. Their bodies are so close, desperate for pleasure and she cannot help but feel as though she's caused all his pain.

Jafar himself breaks the silence with his words. "Janni, I cannot let this be."

She stops kissing him and when she looks up into his eyes, she lovingly entwines her fingers in his twisted goatee. The blackness of the hair softly shines upon her fingers, and never has she found him to be so beautiful, so handsome in all her life. 

But like an innocent, she pleads. "Please, I don't care. Make me yours."

"You remember what the prophecy says. If you choose me over your family, you'll be forgotten; your name won't be remembered and there'll be consequences. Janni, don't you understand that I love you too much to condemn you?"

And how sweetly he puts it! As a man of intimidating looks and stature, she could care less if he seems vile, if he seems evil; she knows she was put on the earth to help him become who he is, not caring about whether or not she would be forgotten by name. 

"And don't you believe that my love for you is true?"

He lowers his forehead to hers and their jewels touch again, rubies gleaming in the firelight. And in an undeniable show of affection, Janni slowly puts his hand upon her breast, and there, she holds it as if he will go away again. She knows that if he leaves that it will kill her; she does not want to go through all that pain again, even under death's watch. She forms fresh tears and allows them to fall from the corners of her eyes.

"Please, make me yours. I don't want any other in this life or the next."

She is so defiant, so determined; he cannot help but love that about her. She, the beautiful little scorpion, wishing to collide with his cobra soul. And how can he deny?

"Very well, my love. But I warn you--- there will be pain."

She laughs at that! "Honestly, Jafar, with what we've been through, I am not afraid."

When she lies beneath him, he presses himself down upon her; their pelvises meet, their lips too, but always he is careful with her. The two are completely alone and nude, save for the jewel she wears. When he places himself at her entrance, he sees the love in her eyes.

It is true, unafraid and utterly human; she is the soul of a djinn he has always yearned to serve, and he knows this now. He kisses her and as he enters her, all fades to black and in the dead of night, their lovemaking knows no boundaries between soul and flesh.


	15. Chapter 15

'You are my lifeblood,' Jafar thinks. 'You are my female half, the epitome of all that I can never be. I may denounce men in their mortal states, but know that away from my pain, under my wing, you will be safe with me.'

He curls his skeletal-like fingers in her hair, and feels as her breath grazes his chest; her head lies against his sternum, her eyes closed, her lips forming a straight grin. In their nakedness, she is more beautiful than ever. Her figure, though it is bruised, has never held a more lushious glow. Her hips are wide and shapely, her legs slender, smooth and her feet are small--- everything about her figure is adored by that man.

'And I adore you as well.'

He cracks his eyes open and looks at her, she who is still sound asleep. He does not remember hearing her speak, and so, he deduces that she is speaking to him through mind, through soul. She lies perfectly still against him on her good side, and she wraps her fingers soft and gently in his goatee again. 'Yes,' she thinks. 'You heard me...'

'You are a true sorceress if ever I saw one.'

Finally, she shows her brown irises, and together, their pupils form a strong gaze, one which locks deeply under the candlelight. "And you, my dear vizier, are a ghastly animal if ever I met one," she teases aloud, biting her lip playfully. "For such a thin man, you're quite strong."

He pins her beneath him in a cautious manner, and her hip, from what he can see, is now fully healed. He is bewildered by such a practice. Only moments ago, she'd been in pain; not from their lovemaking, no, but from the brutality of the guards. Now she is healed, and the flesh there looks as if it has never been touched before now.

\--

When they are dressed, the two walk together up the flight and venture back into those secretive corridors. Her hand is upon his, and she leads him as if he is an adolescent boy, lost and confused. She does not wear a veil, as she feels that his cape, his arms and the moonlight can provide only the best protection for her. While with him, she does not fear anyone or anything. 

Janni herself does not know where to go, but in the heat of the night, she sees that he is swamped with sweat. He remembers his vow to the sultan he serves. He must show her to him, or else be beheaded for disobeying and going back on his word. Jafar is not afraid for himself, but rather, for her, his lover, his world. He claps her closer and keeps his staff at hand. Its ruby eyes glimmer in the moonlight, and seem ever venomous.

"Come," he tells her. "We must go before your uncle."

\--

The two enter the throne room, and thankfully, only the Sultan is present in the late hours. He is kneeling on his throne, and putting small porcelain animals atop one another. A boresome trademark of his, but one that easily distracts his child-like mind.

"Sire," Jafar beams. "I have found the Princess."

The sound of Jafar's voice once again makes the Sultan weary, but as he turns, he sees that his beloved niece is once again being escorted towards him. The little man claps his hands together and rushes towards her. He jumps up and grabs her face, kissing her forehead with delight.

The Sultan cannot wait. He booms with relief, and speaks, "Praise Allah, you're safe! Now, tell me what has happened. Why did you leave, dearest? Did we do something to offend you?"

Jahanara kneels before her uncle and shakes her head. "No, Uncle--- I was called away unexpectedly. I wanted to leave a note, but I hadn't the time; it came rather fast."

She lies through her teeth, and Jafar studies her valor, her composed posture. Clearly she has had to practice this quite often. Nevertheless, the Sultan accepts it, not even thinking once that her words are false. He now looks to Jafar with grateful eyes.

"My niece is returned because of you. I don't know how to properly thank you, Jafar, but I vow that you'll be rewarded for your loyal services," the Sultan promises. "Later with that now. Zaman, she's here! She's here!"

Janni's eyes widen with the utmost horror as she hears the name. She grips her chest tightly with both hands, and she cowers a little, sinking backward. Her uncle has invited her father? 'No,' she screams internally. 'No, he'll discover Jafar, he'll have him murdered in his sleep!'

Just as her uncle runs off to fetch his brother, Janni makes sure that he turns the corner. He is gone in his short stature, his white clothes and turban faded into the distance. She stands up and throws herself onto Jafar, clutching him close, kissing his sternum as her tears fall.

"You must leave, now! If my father finds you, I don't know what I'll do. He cannot know that we are together, and he cannot know that I am no longer a maiden; Jafar, please go. I don't want to see your head on the executioner's block! Please!"

Her love for him is overwhelming. Here she stands, in the presence of Allah, pledging her love, her worry for him, but still she is not at all concerned for her own safety; only he matters in her world, and now, she is desperate to see him leave for her sake.

Jafar does not answer her with words, but a kiss.

Silence would not have its due course, as the marble of the throne room is interrupted with fearful booms of a voice, one that could nearly shatter it with mild contempt.

\--

"Jahanara!"

Their kiss breaks and the Princess turns to face her father. It is inevitable, she knows, and now with Zaman standing there with her uncle, she does not know what to do except clutch onto Jafar, blocking him with her own body.

"Get away from that man," her father instructs. "I forbid you---"

But in an outrage, she cries back. "No! I will not succumb to your orders any longer! I am a woman, I am a human being. You will treat me as such, Father, or else go back to Nestarizan without an heir!"

The old sultan's teeth are gritted and he clenches his hands. He is completely overthrown with anger of the worst kind. "You are a princess! You will do as I command!"

"Father, you cannot command me. I may be your daughter, but I am not a servant; you'd be a fool to even remotely consider that factor."

Tensions rise, and Jasmine's father barges in, trying to make good of the situation. "This is hardly the time or the place for such arguments, and this is a family matter. Jafar has no business in it, as he is my vizier. It's a private matter, and we'll treat it as such. Now, let's all settle down and make light."

Jahanara does not give in willingly, and Jafar glimpses this. She wraps his arms around her waist and holds them there, the staff slanted in his hand. "I will not return! Do you hear me, Father? I will not be the queen! As of this moment, I renounce my claims to Nestarizan."

The room goes deathly quiet. Has she prompted a war-like stance between herself and her father? Has she gone mad, or simply, is she stating what she's been wanting to say for years? Jafar hasn't an idea, but he interjects.

"Your Highness, no! I must intercede on Jahanara's behalf."

"Silence, Jafar!"

The Princess' tender heart is racing and the vizier can feel it. Her eyes continue to water, and he knows that she is cold, her skin clammy with fear, with depression. In an outrage, he uses his staff to hypnotize both sultans. 

"You both will back away from Jahanara. You will not call her bastard, call her traitor, none of that! She will remain a princess but free of her own accord to choose her fate."

Before he allows the men to speak, Jafar disappears with her once again; the whole room goes dark and the cloud devours them both, the sorceress falling out of sight with the damnable royal vizier. Nothing remains there but the two men, still in a trance.


	16. Chapter 16

They know--- her father, her uncle--- and she is rendered helpless. She clutches onto Jafar, though now they hide in a secretive garden, one that lingers far in the confines of her own palace. She does not remember showing Jafar where her palace lies, but deep down, she doesn't care; if by Allah's good graces they can manage to survive the wrath of her father, she would be most grateful to spend eternity and a day with her beloved.

\--

In her wake, she is restless. She once again does not eat, drink or sleep. Soft dark circles form under her eyes, and she counts this as the fifth night she has not slept. It worries Jafar, and as he sees that she shivers, as if freezing, he cannot help but wrap her in his cape. 

"Janni, I wish you would eat; I can't bear to see you starve yourself."

His restraint is no more. He cannot stand by and watch his love waste away, scolding herself until she wishes to be nothing more than a withered husk. He kisses the top of her head again, and as he reaches for an apple of blood-colored flesh and rosy hue, he passes it to her and hopes she takes it. 

Her lips are wildly trembling, her eyes watery. Jahanara is completely consumed by the fear of her father harming Jafar, that suddenly she bursts into tears and cups her arms with her shaking hands. "Please forgive me, Jafar. I've sentenced you to death."

He shudders at her words. He's never been more in love with her, and he's never admired a woman as fierce, as intelligent and selfless. She has become his weakness and he hers.

He takes her into his lap, cradles her, as if she is a newborn babe. He plays the parent to her, comforting her as he throws the apple away and clasps onto her hair instead. She wraps her fingers in his robes, drowning in them. Janni cannot stop thinking it's her fault that Jafar is now a wanted man by the Sultan of Nestarizan.

"Nonsense," he murmers. "If I am to die, then I shall die an honored man by your graces. My love, you've unleashed the soul of a dark djinn in me, one who would die for your every command, kneel for your every wish. My Janni, there's nothing I wouldn't do."

As he speaks those words, there is a mask of venom underlining them. He is callous, persistant as he thinks about her father; if any harm were to come to his princess, what a ruinous day Nestarizan would face. He would not care for his own life, but if hers was to be threatened, he would find a way to curse every innocent man, woman and child.

No mortal would stand in his path.

\--

"But what are we to do? I can't run away from my father forever."

Janni sits beside him on the bench outside her botanical garden. The scent of flowers is arousing, but she is not in the mood for smelling pleasant things and neither is he. He watches the winds shift a few petals onto the waters, and as he thinks to himself, she becomes more uneasy by the second.

"What are you thinking of, my love?"

He faces her and leans inward. "I was thinking about what you said, of how you renounced your claims. Now that I think of it, I'm afraid you couldn't possibly do so unless there was another heir given to your father, or if he himself pardoned you to abandon your birthright as queen."

It makes her heart sink in depression. If her father were to have another heir, it would take too long for the child to grow, to learn all that there was on being a royal. She shivers again at the thought, and lowers her head onto Jafar's shoulder, grazing the red sleeve with her black hair. She cries softly but does not make a fool of herself.

"It will take years, and I highly doubt that Father will pardon me and allow me to remain a solitary woman. He doesn't even know of my craft," she atones. "Tell me, Jafar--- am I damned?"

Through slitted eyes, he stares adoringly into hers. He cups her face with one hand and reels her in, kissing her lips. And in between kisses, he assures her of what he knows.

"I've never needed anybody in my life, but I know that you'll always understand what I am, who I am. If it's any consolation, I believe in you and no, my princess--- I do not believe you're damned. If anyone is damned, it's most certainly me with all the thoughts you give me."

She reddens, blushes at his words as she gets the insinuation of his inside joke. "You, vizier, are beyond my control." She leans upward and places a kiss on his jaw, laughing haughtily against his flesh.

\--

Together, the two sup after he finally convinces her to take a few bites. She drinks down some wine, and an hour later, she switches over to an herbal tea. She drains the chalice in a matter of minutes, looking as though she's been parched for a thousand years. Still, Jafar is relieved to see her eating, drinking. If she hadn't touched any of it, he himself would have fed her. 

No, he cares too much for her now; it's too late for him to turn back, and she knows that they've past the point of no return.

Now he sleeps and lies upon a red-velvet bed, sinking deep into its cushions of gold-embroidery. He has removed his turban, and to her minimal shock, she is not surprised to see that he now only has a few wisps of hair left upon his balding scalp. To any girl, he would be a monster, a beast--- but to her, he is beautiful and a grotesque combined.

"So beautiful," she whispers, leaning down beside him. She takes her fingers and sweeps the sweat-clad strands away from his face, and gently, he leans down to kiss his forehead. Truly, she was remarkable; not many women looked at Jafar and thought him to be their equal, to be fair, attractive. But as he knows, Jahanara is not an ordinary girl.

Janni buries herself into the hollow of his throat, and lovingly, she kisses his skin.

'You live within me,' she dreams. 'You live with me, as my djinn, my protector; with all the horrors Allah has placed upon my family, He has also given me one blessing: you. You are with me, and no one shall take you away. And should the day come when all must fade, I myself will be the first to go, to take the place of every soul that should become damned. Know that with all my heart, I love you.'


	17. Chapter 17

Guards prowl around the edge of the palace, and with Zaman riding back to his own kingdom, the Sultan of Agrabah grows more worried for the life of his niece by the day. He knows that she's abandoned all reason by loving the royal vizier who serves his kingdom; he knows that together, the two cannot marry and thus their love is cursed.

He prays to Allah that she return home safely to her father, that they may make amends for all that has happened between them. But of course, he's not completely naive. He knows his brother will remain furious with his own daughter for as long as she's away.

\--

Meanwhile in the heart of Nestarizan, the Sultan grips the arms of his throne and with two poisonous eyes, orders his men about as he roars in utter betrayal. 

"I command that she be returned home! She has no business being with that sickly-looking man, regardless if he is a faithful servant to my brother," Zaman complains. "If any of you guards see fit to do it, end Jafar and return your princess home, do you hear? Return her unharmed; now go! Search everywhere!"

The men quickly leave the throne room, and one by one, they all follow another down to the stables. The sounds of their footsteps upon the concrete boom in the stable stalls, and when they mount their horses, they cover their faces and bring with them water pouches; all who are going know it shall be a perilous ride through the desert.

\--

Sweat aligns her breasts as she thrashes in her sleep. The black waves of her hair are rattled, and are clinging wildly to her throat, her face. She claws at the sheets of her bed and whimpers; her eyes, though they are closed, leak tears of horror. Janni can feel something ominous coming. She knows that there are men willing to murder her love.

As she drifts off into the deepest of sleep, she can feel her heart racing, her heart palpitating as her veins become heavy with a viscous torment. Perhaps it is because of what she knows, that is why they are coming. 'No, no,' she dreams. 'They are coming for him. They are coming for your male half, Jahanara, so you must not be powerless.'

She feels a twinge of panic rush her then. It circulates through her body, and as she turns helplessly, wildly in her sleep like an animal, she cries out in her soft, feminine tone. "Jafar!"

And how he reels her in. His skeleton-thin arms caress her and he shakes her within a reason of certainty. "Shush, Janni. I'm here, now wake. Please wake for me."

She cannot comprehend the feeling that he is slipping away. To make sure he remains, she opens her eyes and pulls him to lie down beside her. She immediately buries her face into his chest, where the dip of his V-cut shows the junction of his thin collarbone.

"I'm scared; there is someone coming for you, for us."

He perks a brow and notices how horrified she is. Some women prefered to suffer in silence, others in the open, but Jafar notices how his beloved shakes like a leaf in his presence. "Janni, we are safe here. I put a spell around the palace while you were asleep, my love; no one can enter, not unless it is under pain of death or if I will for the spell to be lifted. We are alright."

Her eyes are creased, shut tightly as she tries to hide herself away. Her jewel glistens red in the candlelight, and while she's drawn by compulsion, there is something in Jafar's moves and tone that comfort her, that frighten her though she has vowed to give herself unto him and him alone. Her full, pink lips quiver as she steadies herself to speak. 

"My father's an experienced man in the art of war, but even more so, he's a man of great superstition and contempt. If he discovers what I am, I am certain to meet the executioner's block, do you hear? Jafar, he must never find us. Come."

She leaves the bed and escorts him, by hand, down to her own chambers. Obeidently, he follows. He will follow that deflowered princess anywhere, and knows that by his will or by the command of the Sands of Time, he will seek to bow to her every desire.

\--

Once in her chambers, she removes a book from a shelf and opens it. Jafar leans down to glimpse the pages and before he can ask what it is, she begins to speak.

"This is a mirage spell," she explains. "Once cast, it allows a whole structure to remain unseen. The sun casts its rays down, and in the blistering heat, it creates an illusional pit for those who enter the domain. If my father's men come looking, this will lead them astray and quite honestly, make them mad, weary with thirst until they have to ride back to Nestarizan."

He is impressed with her most definitely.

He has never met a woman so fascinated, so knowledgable about the arts, that it makes his heart tremble in adoration. He grips his snake staff and brings her hand to his heart.

"You are indeed an enchantress. But tell me, how came you by this book?" 

She seems relucant to answer, but does so anyway. "The Egyptians gave it to me."

She casts her eyes away and bites her lip. She feels as though she's given her secrets away; the princess does not want to look the vizier in the eye, for fear he might think her untalented, not born with all natural abilities to conceive a spell or enchantment.

He looms over her and begins to laugh. "Oh Princess--- you never cease to amaze me!"

She slowly cracks a smile. "You're not disappointed in me, my love? You don't find that my learning from a book makes me less magically inclined?"

Jafar lowers his staff and takes both her hands into his. He lowers himself down to his knees and smirks, his twisted goatee becoming more curled like his lips by the second. "You could command me, Princess, with or without the use of magic by choice. You are, after all, the brightest sorceress of this age. I would live and beg by your wishes."

Then he wraps his arms around her waist, nuzzling her breasts with his face, with his kisses. She giggles as he stands upward, his figure's height a mere cascade of a tower. As she stands on her tiptoes, she kisses him quickly and turns her back to meet his chest. She softly wraps his arms around her chest, his hands enveloping her breasts.

"Jafar, you flatter me, but I am afraid. I do not know what to do, or if this spell will help conceal us. Who knows how long it will last? But nevertheless, I am yours and you are mine. If this spell will keep you safe, I will perform it and wish it lasts forever."

"And I will help you perform this spell, my princess. After all, two people are better together than one alone."


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I totally just threw in a scene vibe of Arwen and Aragorn.

The two, at night, stand together on the main balcony of her palace. It is wide, vast, a complete platform that could easily hold an elephant's weight. As she prepares herself for the spell, Jafar stands beside her, content and ready to observe, to learn all he can.

Her fingertips are wet with an anointing oil, as the spell calls for the shape of one's spirit animal to be drawn down around the environment in which she calls to cast a spell upon. Hers is the scorpion--- a beautiful, fierce and deadly creature all the same.  
His is the cobra-- a cunning, slender animal with venom in its teeth, in its very body.

Together, the two use their index and middle fingers to trace silhouettes of the animals. The spell has called for the scent of some oil that represents one's energy, and so, she has chosen juniper for hers. Jafar, however, has chosen the most delectable: marula for his. Had she known better, she would swear that he is some kind of djinn with a hunger for scents. Scents of either fear, lust, love or simple pleasures; whichever, she does not know. All she knows, is that as the two draw their animals on the rim of the balcony, he stands behind her, with her, and places his free hand on hers.

She has never known such devotion or eagerness before, and for all that he shows, she is comfortable with exposing herself to him. After all, he is her pledged servant, her lover, the man who sweeps against every aspect of her mind as she sleeps soundly. He finishes drawing the cobra's teeth, and he waits in turn for her to finish the scorpion.

However she can't remember how to position its tail. She pauses and he sees this.

"Not to worry, Princess. I remember every animal of origin and know how their anatomy works," he assures her. 

With his hand still atop hers, he slowly helps her trace an outline of the scorpion's tail. She feels embedded with his soul, with his spirit as he helps her. Finally, the animals are traced and completed, and all she has to do is combine the sands from around her palace with the essence of the chameli attar. She lowers a hand into a vase of sand, and she smears the sand grains with the attar, smelling it and whispering the spell's words.

"Sands of Reverie, deliver the servants who serve  
Make ready the fates of all evil ones who deserve  
Your illusions, your confusion upon their minds,

"Sands of Time, save the soul of the one I desire,  
Save your grains so that he may escape all fire,  
I ask this in the Prophet's name and in yours."

\--

When the spell is cast, the first rays of the rising sun come through. Reds and pinks bleed into the atmosphere, making the bleak greys fade into the distance. And as the sun rises, there are numerous winds whispering, brushing their bodies as they sweep by.

Before her on the balcony's rim, the sands and oils combine catch fire.

Jafar pulls her back and watches the flames dance red and orange, purple and blue; he has never seen such a conjure before, and thus, he is entranced by its sight. However, he does not wish for her to be burned. He encloses her in his cape and keeps his staff in his right hand. The rubies of the staff glimmer in the rising sun with ultimate wrong.

"You never said anything about a fire, Princess," he groans, obviously worried.

To assure him she is fine, she pats his chest with her hand and kisses it. "Nothing too harmful, I promise."

Oh what a mischievous woman she is! He watches though as the sun pierces the veil around the palace, and immediately, he sees the results of their spell. A mirage, as she said, warms around the domain and blurs the sight around the boundaries; it is waving, the lines are, and carefully, she removes a crystal ball from the inner folds of her dress.

"See?"

Jafar peers into the glass and sees nothing but desert. "What?"

"I told you, my love--- it prevents the enemy from seeing the palace. Surely you understand that with this spell comes the need for minor distraction."

"Honestly, my princess, you are one of the most sane and yet mysterious women I have ever met. Would you hex me for saying such a thing?"

She puts the crystal down beside the flames and takes something from around her neck. He watches in silence, and when he sees what it is, he is astounded. It is a rather detailed, gold cobra charm, with a single little red ruby in its spiraled hold. It dangles from a thin black string, and as she stands on her tiptoes again, he lowers his head and she slips around his neck.

"Princess, you cannot give me this."

As she allows it to fall onto his shoulders, she pulls his hood back so that it may properly sit beneath it. With an innocent smile and a playful arch of her brow, she says, "It is mine to give to whom I will, like my heart."

\--

"Well what kind of guy ups and vanishes like that! When I get a hold of him, I'm gonna let him have it!"

Iago is flustered as he flies in the night. He is tired, tired from searching all over the place for his master, with whom he is understandably upset and annoyed. He groans as his wings grow heavy from tiredness and as he sweeps over a few dunes, he sees a palace unknown to him. It is similar to the one in Agrabah, but streaks of gold and red for its colors; its arabesque design and onion-shaped domes shine in the moonlight.

"Might as well plop in and see whose joint this is before I fall down dead," Iago says, his beady yellow eyes becoming weighted with exhaustion.

He swings down lower, and in an instant, the currents of the wind blow him into one of the domed towers; he plants into the side face first, his body squished and his tail stuck out straight. He falls down in a spiral and hollers with anger. He thuds onto the rim of the balcony, and immediately, he is greeted by the Princess.

"Oh, Iago! I'm so happy to see you," she exclaims. 

And as she approaches him, she sees that there are little stars roaming around his head. She comes and picks him up, wrapping him in her saree. "Poor thing," she sighs.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't mock me for the contents of this chapter. It was bound to happen after all.

She feeds Iago a grape, sliced a little at a time. She is hoping that as she mends his wings that he will once again be able to fly. For some reason, she cannot help but adore this little parrot, despite the fact that he pretends to be callous and can be a little rude.

She nurtures him like she would any other, and with her fingers lightly healing his wings, she cannot resist the urge to smile down at him. He shakes a little in pain and bites the lower half of his beak, but as she continues to feed him grapes, he eases down. He notices that she is being rather kind to him still, and for that, he's confused.

"Thought you were supposed to be a witch all this hocus-pocus stuff around," he says, cocking an attitude. "Some great sorceress you are."

Now she decides to tease the little parrot. She can be quite crafty when she wants to be, and so, she devises up a false spell, one that wouldn't harm Iago in the slightest.

"With beak in toe, heart in mind,  
Send this little parrot off with a new body to find!"

She then conjures up a mirror and playfully puts an image of Iago with a large head in it. He stammers backwards and flings himself down onto the pillow, cowering beneath it. "Jeez, lady--- I was only joking!"

She laughs with a sense of humor and puts her hands on her hips. "Still doubt me, Iago?"

"Nuh-uh! Nope, no doubts here!"

The mirror disappears and she clamors with a smile on her face. She pulls him out carefully from beneath the pillow and kisses his beak, patting his cheek sweetly. "Some brave bird you are, Iago. Had you hit the side of my tower a little harder, you wouldn't be here!"

Iago gives her a gruff scoff, and he lies back, mumbling. Jahanara momentarily breaks a sweat and she claps her hand to her forehead, feeling her heat. She seems winded and sore, especially as she puts her other hand to her heart. Her palm touches her breast softly, and she gasps, gasps so loud that it puts Iago on the edge. "What!" he cries.

Janni does not answer him. Instead she races over to her pool and stands by its side. Jafar has gone off in search of her library, and while away, she examines herself over.

\--

"Allah, help me."

She looks into the pool still and she feels her abdomen. Her hands softly touch beneath her top, over her belly and she waits. She waits with strange anticipation, and as Iago flies and sits upon her shoulder, he grows confused and his eyes slit halfway open.

"What's your problem now?" he squawks.

"Shush, please!"

For a moment she waits. While she stands there, her knees nearly buckle. She's so desperate to know, and her heart leaps; she knows she is to bleed soon upon the monthly new moon, but deep down, near her womb, she feels something is there.

In new light, she weeps. She weeps tears of happiness as she takes Iago into her hands.

"Iago--- no matter what, you can't tell Jafar anything, at least not until I myself know for sure. I must consult my crystal!"

She places the little bird down on a nearby pillow and with a change of pace, she walks over to her crystal and kneels. She rubs her hands around the glass and closes her eyes as she concentrates. "Please, whoever can answer me, show me what my future holds."

\--

Swirls appear in the glass. It shows her again a new silhouette, one that has a female's shape holding something. It is small, beautiful and is cooing; now she sees Jafar's silhouette come into the picture, and he is resplendant to see her and what she holds.

Then it occurs to her.

It is a baby. It is a babe, one who will be born of union between a princess and a vizier; a bastard nevertheless, but still a child. In her eyes, tears form and as she watches the vision still, something horrible happens. The child's silhouette disappears and there are red clouds forming around her. The clouds eventually take the shape of her father, and in the glass, she sees that she is being pulled away from Jafar.

"NO!"

\--

When she stands up, she's clutching onto her belly in the most protective manner she can. She hopes that it will remain; but then again, she is now so terrified of what will happen. But what will he think? 'Allah, no! He must not know, please he mustn't know!'

Panicking, she says to the bird, "Iago, if Jafar finds out, I don't know what I'll---"

He cuts her off and points a wing towards the door. "Lady!"

The vizier is standing there and with his hands full of books. Janni turns and sees the kind of reading material he holds, and as her tears fall, she inquires. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough," he replies.

There is a strange undercurrent to his tone that she cannot place. She does not know whether or not if he is angry with her, and so, she looks away with her eyes shut tightly. He does not understand why she puts on such a face, then he realizes she thinks that he must be prepared to beat her senseless. Jafar puts the books down and tries to go near.

"No! Please, I don't want you to be mad with me. It's just---"

"I know."

Every muscle in her body stiffens. "What did you say?"

He cups her hands in his and kisses her knuckles. "My love, there is a bond between a man and woman that cannot be broken. And when times change, so does the woman's body. My dear, I know what happens; I have read upon the matter, and thus, I accept it."

"You mean... you're not angry with me?"

He lowers himself to his knees and caresses her belly with his face, his hands. Each touch sends electric currents of pleasure through her, and she feels safe. She's always felt safe with him and now, she knows it to be true.

"As I've said before, my princess--- I am yours and not even under pain of death would I ever be able to stop loving you."

"But the child will be a bastard."

The vizier laughs at her. "Better a bastard than an enslaved little heir. Don't you want to make sure our child is with us in the future, and not being bored to death in some white palace someplace?"

"More than anything."

Even as he shifts up to his feet again, he steps away. She wonders if she has done something to warrant his moving away, but he puts a finger up in the air. "Close your eyes."

She's hesitant and unsure. She doesn't know what he has planned, but in her heart, she feels like he's about to surprise her with some kind of news, or with something she cannot forsee. To please him, her eyes close.

"Good, now put out your arms as if you're cradling something."

Now she's scared. "What do you mean?"

"Just do it, my love."

Quietly, he ventures into the other room and brings back with him two small things that are breathing and moving.

When her arms are cradled against her chest, she shakes in silence. What is her lover up to exactly? Is he planning some cruel trick, some mean little charade? She does not know until she feels him put two heavy little things in her arms.

They are alive from what she can feel. They claw playfully against her breasts, her chest and they curl into her throat. She laughs as she feels two little tongues against her cheeks. "Now can I open my eyes, Jafar?"

"Yes, beloved. I hope you enjoy them; for some reason, they were abandoned at the front gates and I knew that with your affinity for small creatures, that they would not go unloved."

Jahanara opens her eyes to see what she holds. And to her, they're two of the most beautiful presents she's ever received or held onto. Two black baby leopards sit in her arms, and she's never held such a renowned smile upon her face before now.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter of part one. I give many thanks to those who read, comment and give kudos. Hopefully when my brain stops being a douche, we'll join Janni and Jafar again in the sequel. 
> 
> THANK YOU ALL!!

When her hands touch her abdomen, she can foresee the child. It's a beautiful little boy, one with a face contoured with shapes and how his skin become so tan, so smooth in her mind; she can see his brown eyes and her heart, she knows he resembles a younger version of his father. Jahanara weeps lovingly at the thought, with warmth in her palms.

Now she plays with the two cubs. Their blue eyes gaze into hers, and as they gnaw upon her hands and arms, she giggles and watches as one tackles the other. Jafar, who lies reclined beside her, puts his hand on her abdomen as he curls into her arm, kissing it.

"You're thinking again, beloved."

"I hadn't thought that to be obvious," she retorts, smiling. "Have you thought of a name if it's a boy or a girl?"

He helps her to recline back, and as the cubs snuggle in between them, Jafar makes sure that they do not hurt her in anyway. Mostly they lie beside her, and growl, yawning in their small sizes. She curls her fingers into their fur and lovingly, strokes their coats.

"Perhaps," Jafar continues. "I was thinking that if it is a boy, we should name him Anwar."

The way he says her brother's name makes her feel shallow. She feels as if the world is against her, and with the cubs sleeping beside her, she reels them in close with a fierce protection about her. Jafar notices her pain. "If I've offended you with the suggestion, my love, I apologize."

"I'm tired, Jafar. I'm going to sleep now."

She rolls onto her side and faces away from him. She uses one arm to reel the first cub over to sleep against her breast with his brother, and it whines with an admirable sound. He has offended her, and for that, he feels awful; that hadn't been his intention, but now he sees that she is silently crying fresh tears.

\--

He excuses himself from their bed and with the cubs sleeping beside her, he knows no harm will come to his princess. And he's determined to keep that true: he does not want anyone to harm his princess, his love, especially if it's true that there is a chance she could be with child. He goes vermillion with rage at thought of her lying injured, or worse, dead.

He grips his hands together and bites his knuckles just until they bleed. He takes a torch then and the books he brought out from her library earlier, makes his way into the dungeons of her palace. He goes deep into their underbelly, and with the rats that sit deep in the holes, he eyes that all the materials are still there. He has gathered oils of chameli attar, bakul attar and frangipani attar; with these he will make an essence to soothe his princess. 

But first, there is something he must do, something he's vowed to make true on since he first saw her father only nights ago. He means to exact vengeance, to make sure that the Sultan will never again go near his own daughter. When Jafar means to take up a vow of hatred, he means fully to go through with it.

\--

Jafar prepares for the ritual in every way shape and form that he can. He has gathered all the materials necessary for the spell, and when he finds it on the right page, he marks it by piercing a small dagger in its thickness. He is full of hunger, of the desire to take hold of all that the Sultan has and bring it down upon him. Jafar knows that he was born with a cruel spirit, but he also knows that he was meant to be with her.

His fingertips dabble in the sands he has gathered from outside her palace. He combines it in a bowl with strands of the Sultan's hair. He has Iago do most of his dirty work, and with this opportunity, how could he refuse having his parrot take a few strands? He chuckles darkly and as the moon peaks through the cell bars, he sees that the light is aligned at the opportune moment. Jafar unsheathes another dagger, and thus, cuts his palm and allows tiny droplets of his blood to fall into the bowl.

"With these drops I curse thee,  
I bring distance between you and me,  
In hopes that you will never near us again,

"I curse your house save for my child and bride,  
For with this protection I offer up to her pride,  
In hopes that you will lose all sanity and time."

While his blood trinkles down, off his slender palm, he holds the blade in his hand still and refuses to let go of it. The silver resonates in the moonlight and as the spell works, Jafar can see that in his own crystal how the Sultan Zaman falls ill. In the crystal, he is shown with his hair falling out, with his knees trembling as he becomes paralyzed for all time. He falls to the floor and he shakes, the servants gasping. 

"Yes!" Jafar cries out. "Victory is mine! For now, if by the allowance of my cunning, your kingdom will become mine and you will return to the dust."

And wildly, he cackles beyond all rationality in the dark, his voice echoing, bellowing off the stone walls while up above, his princess sleeps soundly without knowing his betrayal. But little does he know that Iago, his faithful little hench-bird, has been watching.

\--

When she awakes, the cubs whine at her. She deduces they are hungry, and so, she moves from her bed to fetch them each a saucer of milk along with some fresh meat. The little ones rip into the meat and drink as though they're parched, and for some reason, Jahanara adores how their inward nature comes to the surface. She goes to back to her bed, but as she glimpses the covers in the candlelight, she sees he is not there.

No, the bed is completely empty now and only she is in the room with her cubs.

"Jafar?"

He does not answer. Inside her chest, she feels her lungs burn, feels them expand so slowly that she must sit back down. Her hands clutch onto her belly, and with the little one who forms within, she starts to cry. Her legs shake, same as her nape. She has the feeling of complete distress upon her and she can't shake it off. 

She knows now that something is very wrong. Iago flies back into her chambers after a midnight stroll, and he tells her all that Jafar has been doing. When the parrot is done telling her these things, the Princess wails aloud and beats a pillow with her hands. She hits it so violently that it makes Iago worried for her.

"Hey, hey!" Iago interjects. "Don't do that while you got a bun in the oven!"

Janni cannot bring herself to look at the parrot, and so she falls back onto the bed, the velvet cushions catching her. Iago knows she is upset beyond all repair. He flies beside her and with a shaking wing, he touches her head and seems to pet her, much like she had done with him. 

"I'm sorry, Iago. I didn't think about what he would do; I was so consumed with the thought of his loyalty and sincerity of loving me, that I hadn't comprehended as to what he would do. Does this make me a fool? Does it make me stupid?"

Now the parrot, for the first time, offers condolences. "Nah. You're just young."

"Young," the voice says, "and utterly free now."

She cocks her head up and as she stands, she sees that Jafar has wrapped his hands in a white cloth, one that is now stained with his own blood. She cries and throws a vase at him. "You betrayed me! You cursed my father and now, I don't know what to think anymore."

"Jahanara, I did it for you, for our child."

She shakes her head as tears fall. "You're a monster and I bid you farewell."

He realizes now what she is about to do. "No!" he cries. "Don't you dare leave!"

She takes out a vial and with her cubs, along with Iago in hand, vanishes as the little glass breaks all over the floor; the four of them disappear and the vizier is left alone. In an outrage, he sets the room aflame. He kneels as the fires around him grow, weeping, violently scratching his arms, ripping the cloth; he knows he has done wrong, but oh, how to repair it.

[END OF PART ONE]


End file.
